


life's just another rom-com

by wonsteapot



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, Some angst, blink and miss yoonjin, homophobia themes, many side characters i've borrowed from other fandoms, side soonwoo, some OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonsteapot/pseuds/wonsteapot
Summary: Seokmin and Mingyu were the best of friends as kids, and thenthat incidenthappened.Almost fifteen years later, Seokmin is still struggling to settle into adult life, which becomes even more challenging when an old friend suddenly shows up.





	life's just another rom-com

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to my soul-sister Fie for being an awesome sport and proofing this beast for me. You're the best beta anyone could ever have. And so, I dedicate this fic to you! I honestly didn't think I could finish it in time, but here it is. I hope at least some of you enjoy reading this \o/

*

_part i : finding yourself_

*

Lee Seokmin has always steered clear of conflict. 

Disagreements, hurtful words, anger, tears; they seem to trigger a visceral fight or flight response in him, although it’s more the ‘flight’ component, since of course, fighting is the one thing he’s most averse to. 

Exhibit one: when he is four years old and playing with his five-year-old cousin at their local park while their mothers chatted on one of the nearby benches. He’d been particularly excited that day, ecstatic to see his cousin who’d only just been allowed out after recovering from a stomach bug that had left him stuck in bed for a whole week. He might have been a bit too enthusiastic while following the slightly older boy around the park, dogging his steps and giggling loudly when his cousin pulled funny faces at him. Seokmin usually listens well, well-behaved and obedient to a fault, but on this particular day, in his determination to cling to his beloved cousin, when his cousin tells him to wait a few minutes before following him down the slide, he doesn’t heed his words. Instead he launches himself down the slide immediately after the other boy and they end up colliding into each other painfully at the bottom, his foot landing on his cousin’s head with a dull thwack. 

He still remembers the way his cousin’s face had crumpled, nose turning red, and big, fat, crocodile tears rolling down his face as the pain registered. At the time, Seokmin remembers yelling a “ _Seokmin is sorry!_ ” and bursting into tears himself, before running off to hide behind his worried mother’s skirt while his aunt had tried to comfort his distraught cousin. It took his parents three months before they could persuade him to play with his cousin again. 

It’s also this aversion to conflict that leads him to meet Kim Mingyu. 

Exhibit two: it is his first day at primary school and his mother had packed him a lunch box, re-tied the undone laces of his brand-new school shoes by the entrance, and told him to find a nice seat in the front row of his class so that he can study hard, before sending him through the forbidding school gates with a kiss to his forehead. Her clear instructions ringing in his ears, he follows one of the older students directing all the new starters to their classes. When he walks into his classroom, a few students are already seated, while some are peering out of the windows to see if they can spot their parents. Thankfully, there is still one free seat at the front, and Seokmin shuffles over to it quietly, but the minute he makes to sit on the chair, a pair of hands roughly shoves him to the side. 

“Mum said this is my seat,” declares a pudgy boy, glaring at him when Seokmin straightens up. 

Wilting at the open hostility, Seokmin blinks rapidly to hide the way his eyes fill with tears, and without any further protest, he retreats to an empty seat in the third row from the back. Another boy already occupies the desk, and Seokmin slips into the spare seat with a meek nod at his deskmate. 

He is met with a wide grin, with a sizeable gap in the middle where two of the boy’s front teeth are missing. “Hello, I’m Mingyu. What’s your name?”

Seokmin sniffles and replies quietly, “Lee Seokmin.”

The grin widens, until the boy’s face almost radiates with light. Seokmin is a bit dazzled. “Seokmin, do you like cars?”

Seokmin doesn’t know much about cars, but he doesn’t want to offend Mingyu, so he just nods. By the end of the day, Seokmin leaves school with a sudden breadth of knowledge about cars and a new friend. 

It’s a memory Seokmin treasures.

*

*

Kim Mingyu becomes his best friend, even before Seokmin fully understands the meaning of the term. In class, they whisper to each other and pass notes surreptitiously when the teacher is not looking. During recess they climb up and down the monkey bars and play tag with a couple of others, and Mingyu sometimes goes home with him after school, spending a few hours playing in Seokmin’s backyard while his mother prepares dinner. Mingyu’s mother often has her hands full with Mingyu’s younger sister, and is only ever too grateful when Seokmin’s parents babysit him for a few hours. 

Some of his happiest childhood memories are of him and Mingyu getting ice cream from the ice cream van that comes along every afternoon, mouths messy and hands sticky from the treat. 

Seokmin is eight when his mother gets a promotion, which means she’s at work for longer hours and can no longer pick him up after school. His father, who often spends long periods away from home on business trips, is even less available. 

This is when she introduces Seokmin to Changmin; a tall, handsome high-schooler who needs a bit of extra cash on the side to buy video games. Initially, Seokmin keeps his distance, wary of his babysitter, and _really mum, do I even need one? I’m nearly nine!_ But his protests fall on deaf ears and Changmin picks him up after school without fail. 

The first time Mingyu meets him, his friend goes all quiet and wide-eyed. 

“He’s so tall,” whispers Mingyu, eyes not leaving his babysitter’s long strides even for a second. “I bet he drinks a lot of milk, right?”

Seokmin shrugs, but secretly decides to start drinking more milk like his mother has been urging him to for the past few years. 

Changmin turns out to be very laid-back, and as long as they are within hearing distance, he lets them do whatever they like. He quickly wins points with Seokmin when he buys them ice cream on the way home once. 

Sometimes, some of Changmin’s cool high school friends would stop by the house, bringing pizza and movies along with them. Seokmin doesn’t tell his mother, since he likes his babysitter, but he’s sure his mother would not approve of the fact that Changmin gives them pizza and lets them watch movies where people are always getting blown up or stabbed. It makes him feel special, like both him and Mingyu are part of a secret club, with grown-up friends. 

It happens during one of those evenings, with Changmin’s friends trailing out of Seokmin’s living room one-by-one, after they finish watching a movie with an army of crazy people chasing a group of ladies and a man across a desert. Mingyu had gone to get some water from the kitchen and Seokmin had followed him, wondering out loud why the crazy boss in the movie had needed so many wives.

When they return to the living room, the sight that greets them leave them a bit gobsmacked. 

One of Changmin’s friends, a pretty petite girl, has her mouth pressed against his. 

Seokmin blinks a few times, puzzled. 

He’s seen his father kiss his mother on the cheek a few times. And sometimes he catches the couple that lives across the street exchanging a kiss or two before heading their separate ways in the morning. 

But as far as he can tell, it’s something only married people do. 

“Why are you kissing?” Mingyu beats him to the question. 

The girl jerks away from Changmin with a quiet squeak. Changmin merely raises an eyebrow at them, bemused. 

“Are you husband and wife?” asks Seokmin in amazement. 

Changmin snorts, while the girl blushes bright red and laughs shrilly. “No, sillies. We are just very good friends,” the girl explains. 

“Then why are you _kissing_?” asks Mingyu, persistent, face fixed in a frown. 

“Because we’re very close friends,” replies Changmin, smiling amusedly at the girl who rolls her eyes. “We just want to show each other how much we like each other.”

“Huh,” is all Mingyu says, then nods, a thoughtful look on his face. Seokmin’s still a bit puzzled, but if Mingyu understands what they meant, he doesn’t want to look like the dumb one, so he mimics his friend and nods sagely. 

The girl giggles. “Oh, they’re so cute, Min.”

Later that evening, after Seokmin’s mother returns and their babysitter departs with a wink, Mingyu turns to him solemnly and says. “You’re my _bestest _friend, Seokminnie.”__

____

____

He smiles, slightly taken aback by the sudden proclamation. “And you’re mine,” he says, liking the way Mingyu’s canines protrude slightly when he grins. It makes him look like a puppy.

Before he knows what’s happening, Mingyu is leaning forward and pressing his lips clumsily against his. Their noses knock together awkwardly, and Seokmin winces as his teeth dig into his lips on impact.

“There,” says Mingyu, looking pleased. “Now, we’re the closest of friends.”

And Seokmin feels special.

*

*

Of course, when things are going too well, life has a way of mucking itself up.

They are ten, nearly eleven, when Seokmin first finds out how it feels to lose something important. Or someone. 

Mingyu’s baby sister is now a bit older, which means he now often goes over to Mingyu’s house after school. On those days, Mingyu’s mother is around to keep an eye on them, and it saves Seokmin’s parents some money on childcare arrangements. Seokmin likes going to Mingyu’s place, because his mother always bakes them cookies, and Mingyu’s sister, Minseo idolises him. Having them around takes away the loneliness of being an only child, and he treasures it. 

He’s playing a game of tag with Mingyu and his sister in their front-yard when he accidentally trips and crashes onto the paved path that cuts across the garden to the gate. He lands heavily on his knees, scraping them badly. The pain shoots down his legs, knees bleeding and throbbing angrily, and a sob escapes him before he can steel himself in front of Minseo, who gives him an anxious look. 

“Minseo, get mum, please,” yells Mingyu, running over to kneel in front of him, hands checking his knees tentatively. His touch only makes the burn worse, and Seokmin flinches back with a loud sniffle. 

“Seokminnie, are you okay?” asks Mingyu, breathless and worried. “Can you walk?” He wipes Seokmin’s face with his sleeve, dabbing at the tears carefully. 

“N-no, it hurts.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mingyu murmurs, hugging him daintily. “Mum’s going to be here soon and then we can get you patched up.”

And then he leans over and kisses Seokmin, a gentle peck on the lips. It’s become a bit of a habit between them, a sign of affection, and it always calms him. 

But today, a voice exclaims loudly, “ _Ew_ , did you guys just _kiss_?” jarring him from the serene feeling. 

They whip around towards the street, where two boys from their class are gawking at them over the low fence. One of them has his face all scrunched up in disgust, while the other boy looks a bit lost. 

“Gross!” says the one who’s frowning at them. “Boys don’t kiss other _boys_ , you know.”

Seokmin shrinks into himself, his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat. The pain in his knees fades to a distant buzz as a wave of nausea rises up his throat, breath quickening in his panic. He vaguely hears Mingyu snapping at them to “Leave us alone!”, but his voice only makes him feel more ill. He hears the mocking tone in their voices as they leave, even though he can’t clearly make out what’s being said over the loud thrumming in his ears. 

Mingyu’s mother joins them seconds later, with a first aid kit. She gently patches him up, while Mingyu hovers over them nervously, asking him if he’s okay. 

Seokmin can’t speak. 

When Mingyu reaches over to help him stand, he almost leaps away from the touch. He doesn’t mean to, but the mocking tone of the other boys’ voices is still ringing in his head, and the mere sight of Mingyu annoys him. 

If he catches the hurt in Mingyu’s eyes, he ignores it and waits quietly in their living room for his mother to pick him up, sat as far as he can from his friend. 

The next day, he changes his seat in class, sitting in the front row like his mother had initially suggested. He ignores Mingyu when he tries to speak to him in between classes, slipping past him to go to the toilet. During lunch, when a rowdy group of kids gets in his face, he quickly declares, “ _He_ kissed me!” It’s cowardly, and he knows it’s wrong and mean, but he needs an escape. 

His mother has always spoken to him about being kind. Kind to yourself, kind to your family, kind to your friends. And he’s always tried to be kind. 

But the _one_ thing he hates the most is conflict. 

And Seokmin is scared and doesn’t know how to deal with the hairy situation he finds himself in. So, he does the next best thing. He side-steps the ugliness and steers clear of the conflict. He tries his hardest to avoid the kids’ mockery, and runs from Mingyu’s hurt and anger. When the boys pick on Mingyu, ostracises him for being “a weirdo who kisses boys”, he looks the other way, distances himself. After a few foiled attempts to corner him, Mingyu eventually gives up, wilting away into the back of the classroom, keeping to himself. 

He’s ten when he loses his best friend.

He’s just turned eleven when Mingyu’s family moves out of town, saving him from the discomfort of ever having to make up with his best friend. 

But the overwhelming guilt stays.

*

*

Life without Mingyu takes a bit of getting used to, especially with the way his eyes tear up every single time his eyes catch on the empty seat in their classroom. The last year of primary school becomes a torturously lonely tread, forever branded as the “boy who got kissed by that weirdo”. The students don’t necessarily pick on him, but they don’t make him feel welcome either. The school library becomes his haven, the only way he can make school tolerable is by escaping into the pages of a storybook. 

But it’s not enough, since the school still reminds him of Mingyu.

With lots of pleading and thanks to his suffering grades, his parents agree to let him attend middle school in another neighbourhood. 

It feels like a blessing. A new school, a different area, a new group of students.

A chance to reinvent himself.

He meets Jeonghan during the second week of school, when he catches the boy napping behind the auditorium bleachers during Phys Ed. 

Despite being two years his senior, Jeonghan is easily one of the most approachable people he’s met, and soon he’s adopted by the older boy’s friends too, most of them older than him and already at ease in their skin after the awkwardness of puberty. Something he quietly suffers through during seventh grade, when his voice breaks and his limbs start outgrowing his clothes at an alarming rate (his mother sighs heavily when she buys him his fifth pair of school uniforms in a matter of weeks). Jeonghan, being Jeonghan, teases him throughout the year, relentless, until Seokmin starts to slowly come out of his shell and starts talking back. 

In eighth grade, Boo Seungkwan literally trips into his life, stumbling over a student’s extended foot during lunch period and landing in Seokmin’s lap with a loud screech. Seokmin blinks at the large red stain spreading on his crisp new white shirt, thanks to some errant flying kimchi off the boy’s tray, and looks down at the culprit who’s hastily apologising to him at his feet. The large brown eyes and the round apples of his cheeks immediately endear him to Seokmin. It only seems fair to adopt him into their circle of friends. Initially it feels strange to take someone in under his wing, but he grows to like the feeling soon enough, being depended on by someone younger.

Although, Seungkwan does less depending, and more demanding. The younger boy is a force unto himself, extremely driven, vocal and stubborn. While Jeonghan’s specialty is lying down (on any flat surface available), Seungkwan’s is not staying still. His interests change with the weather, and Seokmin finds himself being dragged to numerous extracurricular clubs – drama, cooking, chess, anime – and this is how he ends up being recruited by the struggling school newspaper along with Seungkwan, whose newest ambition is to become a journalist.

Surprisingly, Seokmin finds he has a knack for finding entertaining stories and moulding them into something sensational. The time he spends reading through the submissions reminds him of the hours he spent at the school library. It evokes a strange feeling in him – bittersweet, but also comforting, books being the one thing that had been a sanctuary for him at the time. And it reminds him of Mingyu, his once best friend, someone he’s not thought of for months. The memory of him brings with it a jumbled mess of emotions, but he doesn’t feel the sharp stab of pain anymore, just nostalgia. 

When he tells Jeonghan about it one night over dinner, the older boy nods thoughtfully. “Well, don’t they say time heals? I’m sure it’ll be the same for him.”

Seokmin hopes, desperately. 

In his final year of high school, he takes on the role of editor for the school newspaper. 

And when the time comes for university applications, he ends up applying to one of the most popular literature programs and sets off to the city with a full scholarship.

*

*

The time in university is when Seokmin really comes into his own.

Once given the independence of living away from his parents, surviving by himself, away from the small-town mentality and the judgemental eyes, he lets himself breathe. He sheds the persona from his early teens, the one of the mild-mannered, conscientious, albeit slightly silly young boy, and yet again reinvents himself during his first year. 

Not to say he’s not all of those things at the core, but he allows himself to become more. More open, more driven, more adventurous. Quicker to crack silly jokes and laugh, happier to become the life of the party and form acquaintances (not really friendships) with most of his cohort. 

If he didn’t have Minghao, the quiet Chinese boy next door to him at the dorms and his one close friend moderating his exuberance, Seokmin wonders if he would have passed any of his first-year finals. 

The overindulgence tampers down considerably in his second year, the novelty of freedom wearing off, and he’s re-united with Seungkwan who comes to the city to join an entertainment company. He lets Seungkwan crash at the flat he shares with Minghao (after they moved out of the dorms), which he regrets only a few weeks later. That is, when he walks into the living room one evening after two rather exhausting hours of trying to follow the monotonous drone of Professor Choi reciting off a crammed PowerPoint presentation on _Hyannga_ , only to find the younger boy scrolling through Seokmin’s phone.

“ _Hey_ , that’s mine!”

Seungkwan shrugs. “You left it in the bathroom.”

Seokmin gawks at the nerve of the other boy who hasn’t once paused in his inspection of Seokmin’s phone. “That doesn’t give you permission to look through it! How did you get into it anyway?” he asks, stomping over to swipe it out of Seungkwan’s hands. 

His friend dodges his grabbing hands neatly, sticking out his tongue in childish retaliation. 

“It was truly such a hardship trying to figure out your password, given your birthday’s basically your go-to password for _every single thing_ ,” Seungkwan mutters sarcastically.

“Give that back!”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Seungkwan relents and throws the phone at Seokmin, who catches it seconds away from colliding with his nose. “It’s not like there’s anything interesting on it anyway. No risqué texts, no embarrassing pictures, no girls’ phone numbers. I thought you said you’re having a wild time at uni, hyung.”

Seokmin scowls. “It is possible to have a wild time without doing all of that.”

“Sure, if you mean risking it all by eating week old pizza, pissing in bottles instead of trekking to the toilet, taking a shower once a week, watching reruns of NCIS every night on the couch with your flatmate,” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose. “Wild.”

“That’s just this year,” Seokmin points out righteously. “I’m trying to be a bit more responsible.”

This is met with a very flat stare. 

“What happened to your practice session today, anyway?” Seokmin asks in a blatant attempt to change the subject. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there learning how to dance like H.O.T. or something?”

“Our dance instructor is down with a stomach bug,” Seungkwan volunteers before pinning Seokmin under an intense stare. “Don’t think you can distract me so easily.”

He decides to ignore the other boy.

Sadly, Seungkwan’s demanding ways have not dampened over the last year. He follows Seokmin into the small kitchen and hovers over him while he pours some hot water into his cup ramen. 

“Isn’t university meant to be all about booze, drugs and sex?” asks Seungkwan, poking him insistently in the side until Seokmin turns around to face him with a grimace. 

“We don’t live in an American sitcom, Kwannie,” he grumbles. 

“You’re dashing all of my hopes here.”

“You’re not even in uni, what’s it to you?” Seokmin asks through a mouthful of ramen. Seungkwan flinches when a bit of his spit lands on his face, groaning loudly while Seokmin snickers into his food. 

“But I wanted to experience it vicariously through _you_!” Seungkwan whines.

“Sorry, kiddo. I can’t let my grades suffer this year.”

Seungkwan huffs, crossing his arms petulantly. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the kitchen are Seokmin’s loud slurps and the whirring of their old refrigerator. He gives it a concerned once-over, worried they might need to call their landlord once again if the fridge gives up on them, for the third time in two months. 

“I bet you’re still a virgin.”

The ramen slides down the wrong pipe and Seokmin spends the next minute nearly hacking out a lung. Seungkwan thumps him on the back, with only the slightest hint of remorse in his eyes and for the umpteenth time Seokmin laments his inability to exert any sense of authority over one Boo Seungkwan. Not that he doesn’t try. 

“ _Hey_ , show some respect! I am still older than you, you little brat!”

An exaggerated roll of the eyes and a quiet giggle lets him know he’s failed once again. 

“So, you _are_ still a virgin, then,” Seungkwan muses, a smirk playing at his lips while Seokmin loses a battle with the flush creeping up his neck. _Sex is overrated_ , he wants to retort indignantly, but as someone whose closest encounter with the pleasures of the flesh boils down to his right hand and a Japanese AV in the early hours of the morning, Seokmin doesn’t feel the statement could be backed up with any solid arguments if Seungkwan pushes. 

“We seriously need to remedy this,” the other boy says, clenching a fist in determination and nodding at him encouragingly. 

Seokmin groans. “We don’t need to do anything, aside from maybe order some fried chicken because I’m still hungry.”

The distraction technique doesn’t work, as expected. 

“No, no, this is critical, hyung,” Seungkwan declares, clamping his hands on Seokmin’s shoulders firmly and peering into his face intently. “I’ll help you get laid if it’s the _last_ thing I do.”

It’s only his fear of meeting the wrath of Seungkwan’s mother that holds him back from strangling his friend then and there. With a drawn-out sigh, he pats Seungkwan on the head and offers a mild smile. “I’ll acknowledge your heart’s in the right place, but one more word about my sex life and I’m exiling you.”

“There’s no need to get defensive,” the younger boy tells him sweetly. “I know how shy you get around girls. I’ve seen it. Remember that time Jiyoung-noona gave you a rose on Valentine’s Day and you ate it because you didn’t know what to say to her?”

Seokmin hides a wince. He can still clearly recall the bitter taste of the petals collecting in a mushy ball in his mouth while Jiyoung gaped at him in bemusement. “I’m a grown-up now,” he defends weakly. 

Seungkwan gives him a significant look. “Have you even kissed anyone?”

“Of course I have!” he insists, mind automatically going to the butterfly kisses Mingyu used to press to his lips, and then immediately regrets it when Seungkwan raises a curious eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

He’s not entirely sure how to broach the subject of how he used to kiss his ex-best friend on a semi-regular basis when they were kids. The memory brings with it a complicated ball of nostalgia, guilt, warmth and fear twisting in his stomach, and a part of him is worried that the same disgust he saw in the eyes of the kids at his old school will be reflected back on Seungkwan’s face if he tells him. Although, a larger part of himself berates him for not giving his friend enough credit. 

“That’s none of your business,” he mutters after a pause. 

If he’s honest with himself, Seokmin’s sidestepped kissing ever since ‘the incident’ from fifth grade. During high school, even with the craze of dating sweeping through the hormonal student body, he managed to keep a low profile. He was always either too busy goofing off with his friends, or buried under homework, or busy tweaking stories for the newspaper. 

At least that’s what he used to tell himself. 

If he’s really honest with himself, he’d just never been interested in any of the girls at school, awkwardly turning down the few proposals he had during his senior year. 

(The only person he experienced even a passing attraction to was Jeonghan, but Seokmin told himself it was more idolisation than anything less than platonic. Besides, it was universally accepted that Jeonghan was the prettiest person at their school).

He’d told himself that he would find someone at university. That there would be more girls to choose from. More girls who would be interested in him. 

So much for that. 

“Was it Jeonghan-hyung?”

Seokmin gapes at his friend, who’s nervously chewing on his lips but keeping a steady gaze on his face. “ _What?_ ”

“Well, you guys have always been incredibly close,” Seungkwan mumbles, cheeks flushing a bit. “And I wouldn’t really put it past Jeonghan-hyung, with the way he used to smother us with affection whenever he was awake.”

Seokmin smiles, a pang of homesickness hitting him at the memory of the older boy, who’s apparently now working at their town’s florist. “It wasn’t him.” He shrugs when Seungkwan gives him an expectant look. “You wouldn’t know them.”

This seems to momentarily appease Seungkwan, but he still gives him a lingering look of suspicion before he drags Seokmin to the living room just as Minghao is walking through the front door, looking a bit downtrodden after a full day of back-to-back lectures, but still fashionable to a fault. He shoots a helpless look at his flatmate when Seungkwan cracks open a notepad and jots down _‘Best-laid Plans to Get Seokmin-hyung Laid’_ at the top of a blank page, but to his horror, Minghao takes one look at the title, giggles and then gleefully volunteers to help. 

For the next few months, he gets sent on at least twenty different group dates, which in turn leads to a few more individual dates with some of the girls who pass him their phone numbers amidst blushes and giggles. 

Much to his friends’ glee, one of the girls, Yunha, older than him by a year and confident beyond her years, even sticks around past the first two dates. She’s the second person Seokmin kisses, and while his childhood kisses could hardly compare to the searing, wet kisses she presses onto his lips, he struggles to find the same warmth and comfort in her kisses, leaving him a bit disappointed. 

To say that the sex makes up for the lacklustre kisses is a gross understatement, none of which is Yunha’s fault. She definitely knew what she was doing, and was plenty enthusiastic despite Seokmin’s first-time fumblings. On the other hand, Seokmin spends the entirety of the experience mortified at his lack of interest. He doesn’t recall ever feeling so ill-fitted in his skin. 

The morning after, Yunha observes him over a steaming cup of coffee and asks, “Have you ever considered men?”

Seokmin flinches. 

Her words are jarring, but her tone is kind, curious. 

His brain kicks into overdrive while he considers how to react. Perhaps lash out with anger, shock (or disgust?). Maybe laugh it off, make a joke out of it, ridicule himself. Or he could apologise, run away, transfer to a different university and change his name whilst at it. But he does none of that. 

After a long silence, Seokmin looks her in the eye and says quietly. “Not really.” 

Not really, in the sense that he’s sometimes wondered how it would feel like to kiss Minghao halfway through their drama marathons. Not really, in the way he’s definitely admired the way Jeonghan’s hair perfectly framed his face and the way his skin flushed a pretty pink after track practice. Not really, in the way he still remembers the soft pressure of Mingyu’s lips against his, the gentle way he always held his hand, and the sparkle in his eyes whenever he flashed a wide smile at Seokmin. 

“Hmm,” is all Yunha says in response, but her lips curl into a slight smile. 

Later, when Seungkwan harasses him for the details, Seokmin flicks him on his forehead and grumbles, “Let’s just say your mission has been accomplished. Now, please, stop trying to set me up with people.”

And maybe it’s the loud and clear plea in his voice, or perhaps the defeat in his eyes, but Seungkwan nods and backs off. 

It’s during his final year, in between all-nighters at the main campus library and fighting to stay awake during lectures, that he finally comes to terms with it. It’s when he meets Jaehyun, a Business student on his way out of the library in the early hours of the morning one day, that his world shifts, realigns and starts making sense. 

Jaehyun is charming, handsome, funny, a lot of things really. And his bright smile draws Seokmin in, hook, line and sinker, his stomach exploding in butterflies every time their eyes meet. 

He doesn’t realise it at first, not until Minghao points it out dryly one afternoon. “It sounds like you have a crush.”

Seokmin sputters, spitting out bits of his half-munched sandwich in surprise. Lips disappearing into an unimpressed thin line, Minghao wipes his fancy shirt with a paper napkin. 

“No, I _don’t_. Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It’s okay, you know,” Minghao says gently, reaching over to ruffle his fringe. “You’re still you, and still my favourite person.”

It leaves him speechless, the gravity of the revelation knocking the breath out of him, at the same time gratitude lodging at the back of his throat until he feels tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. 

“Huh,” he says, poking at his abandoned sandwich distractedly. “I guess that explains a lot.”

Minghao snickers. “Oh, you’re so precious.”

Seungkwan doesn’t even blink when he tells him two weeks later (it’s the first time he’s seen his friend in weeks, Seungkwan too busy with training and living in a dorm with a couple of other trainees). He merely huffs and lounges back in his chair, nodding at some fellow trainees gathered at a table across the courtyard of his company building. Seokmin follows his gaze, heart stuttering when he catches sight of a tall, attractive young man in their midst.

When he turns around, Seungkwan is smirking. “I did wonder a few times,” he says, sipping on his iced tea. “You always fawned over Jeonghan-hyung more than any of the girls at school.”

Seokmin groans. “For the last time, I didn’t fancy hyung,” he lies through his teeth, because he’d rather eat his shoe than admit to Seungkwan being right all along. 

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Seungkwan flicks some tea at him with the straw. “Fine, continue to exist in denial,” he mutters. “So, are you going to ask this guy out?”

See, here’s the thing. 

Jaehyun turned out to be incredibly friendly, which Seokmin finds out after a night spent in the library together, sharing the same table in their quest to finish coursework due in the morning. And despite his subdued alarm at how attractive he finds the other student, and while minutely freaking out over his recent epiphany into his own sexuality, he still ends up as Jaehyun’s library buddy as they both lament over their respective theses’ progress. 

He ends up getting to know the other boy quite well during these sessions, thanks to his tendency to ramble – tidbits like how Jaehyun loves gummy bears and will eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner if given the choice, how he learnt to bake at the age of nine, how he hates spiders and will run shrieking from rooms at the mere sight of them, how he’s already planning the perfect way to propose– 

Seokmin sighs loudly, hanging his head low and avoiding Seungkwan’s inquiring gaze. “No, he’s got a girlfriend.”

“Huh.”

Aside from the occasional slurping of his drink, Seungkwan remains silent for a while. When he sneaks a glance up at him, the younger boy has his eyes narrowed, focused on something over Seokmin’s shoulder thoughtfully. 

Curious, Seokmin looks over and meets a pair of eyes looking straight at him. The tall boy from before smiles and nods at him amiably before turning to speak to one of his friends. 

Caught slightly off guard, he quickly turns around. Seungkwan snorts at the sight of his face steadily flooding with colour. “Do you want me to introduce you to Yugyeom-hyung? He’s a nice guy.”

“…please.”

Seungkwan laughs.

*

*

Yugyeom turns out to be really nice, but it was always only going to be a short fling, a couple of dates sneaked in here and there, him being an idol trainee after all. Seokmin is not delusional enough to believe a serious relationship would survive the scrutiny and rigidity of that lifestyle. 

Besides, Seokmin was never swept off his feet when they kissed, the spark fizzling out once the novelty wears off. 

It’s the same with the two other guys he dates. Even though the superficial attraction is there, kissing them never made his heart flutter, never left his skin tingling and his lips buzzing, disappointment bitter at the back of his throat. 

Unlike the warm, giddy feeling he associates with his very first kisses.

But he shoves those traitorous thoughts to the very back of his mind whenever they surface, uncomfortable with the emotions they evoke. 

Instead, he throws himself into exam preparations and job applications. 

Summer brings with it their graduation (how he managed to survive his thesis viva with his sanity intact is one of the greatest mysteries in the world), an internship at a small but popular publishing house and a surprise visit from Jeonghan. 

“I can see why he was your gay awakening,” murmurs Minghao, peering into their living room where Jeonghan is smothering Seungkwan under two years’ worth of adoration. “His looks are unreal.”

Seokmin lightly knocks his forehead against the kitchen cabinet with a stifled groan. “Please don’t believe everything Seungkwan says.”

His friend smirks. “Seungkwan didn’t say anything,” he informs Seokmin breezily, grabbing a bottle of wine and two wine glasses off the countertop. “Your heart-eyes on the other hand, when Jeonghan-sshi showed up– _Hey!_ Mind the wine!” Minghao yelps, twisting out of the way gracefully when Seokmin shoves him hard. 

“I swear, if you say anything to hyung, I am pouring all your fancy bottles of wine down the toilet,” Seokmin hisses urgently, to which Minghao sticks his tongue out and scuttles out of the kitchen before Seokmin can hit him again. 

Sighing, he follows after Minghao, lips spreading into a wide grin when he sees Seungkwan’s defeated expression as Jeonghan squishes his cheeks while cooing, “Who’s a good Boo, _who’s_ a good Boo, huh?”

Seeing Jeonghan’s bright smile greet him at the door only a few hours ago, after three long years, did certainly render him speechless for a good few minutes. And he will reluctantly acknowledge that he might have looked a bit awestruck at how well short hair suits Jeonghan, somehow making the other man a hundred times more attractive. So perhaps Minghao is not entirely wrong about the whole ‘heart-eyes’ thing, but it will be a cold day in hell before he ever admits to ever harbouring a crush on the older man. If Jeonghan ever found out, he will never live it down. 

“Look at how tall you’ve grown,” exclaims Jeonghan, beaming up at Seokmin when he leans over to plonk a can of Coke on the table in front of Seungkwan. 

“I’ve been this tall since I turned fifteen, hyung.”

Jeonghan ignores him, grabbing hold of his nose before he can lean back. “You’ve really grown into your features, so handsome.”

Seokmin does his best to will away his blush, but it’s a lost cause going by the snort that escapes Seungkwan. 

“Hyung, I’m not a little kid anymore!”

Jeonghan snickers, eyes twinkling. “I don’t see you both for only a couple of years and suddenly you’re both too grown-up to be my babies, huh? I feel bereft.” Seokmin grits his teeth at the sound of Minghao giggling behind him.

“You haven’t changed,” Seungkwan mutters dryly. “Despite the haircut and the new job.”

Seokmin’s ears perk up at that. “New job? What happened to being a florist?”

“I needed a change,” Jeonghan replies with a shrug. “Besides, the flowers were playing hell with my allergies. I’ll never find a girlfriend while dripping snot down my face twenty-four seven, and I have grand plans to have a nice little family with three kids, two girls and one boy.”

Seungkwan blinks. “That’s specific.”

“What’s the new job?” 

“Just a little modelling gig,” the older man says simply. “One of my customers approached me for it, turns out she works for some modelling agency over here.”

He raises an eyebrow when the room falls silent. 

Minghao is the first one to break the stretching silence, Seungkwan and Seokmin still buffering in their awestruck reverence. “Congratulations! That sounds like the perfect job for you.”

Jeonghan beams. 

“A model? A MODEL?” shrieks Seungkwan, eyes wide and face flushed with excitement. “Why are you so calm about this? Oh my god, you’re going to be on magazines and billboards and stuff, hyung!” 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, patting Seokmin on the back when he sweeps him up in a hug. “Says the boy who’s training to become an idol. Besides, I’m not fussed about the fame. I’m more excited at the fact that I’ll be living here, in the city, with you guys! Although I need to find a place first.”

Seokmin laughs happily. “You can crash with us for as long as you need, hyung. Right, Minghao?”

Minghao shrugs, unbothered. Seokmin blows a kiss at him, feeling a surge of affection towards his friend for being so tolerant of his whims, and laughs again when the other makes a show of batting away the kiss. 

Later that night, Seokmin stays awake way past his usual bedtime, exhilaration bubbling in his chest. 

Fresh out of university, an internship of his choosing in the bag, a flatmate who’s utter perfection in every way, and two of his closest friends only minutes away from him in the city. 

Sure, he might not have had much luck in love so far, but he’s never felt happier.

*

*

And he stays happy for the next few years. 

Happy, as the internship turns into a paid full-time administrative job, which he leaves after two years once he secures a position as an editorial assistant at _Wings Publishing_ , one of the most renowned publishing houses in the country, off the back of a glowing reference. 

Happy, as Seungkwan debuts as a solo artist only a year after Seokmin’s graduation, steadily winning over the hearts of women (and some men) of all ages with his beautiful voice and quickly gaining in popularity thanks to his bubbly persona and ‘variety skills’, as he likes to boast every time he comes over for a visit. 

Happy, as Jeonghan tries his hand at modelling for three years, face plastered on a number of fashion magazines and completing a twelve-month contract with _Zara_ , before he gets fed up with the unforgiving expectations and rules enforced on him and randomly gets a job at a quaint little café only twenty minutes away from Seokmin’s office and falls in love with one of his fellow baristas. 

Happy, as Minghao finally moves out of their shared flat during Seokmin’s second year with _Wings Publishing_ , quoting reasons of the flat being too far from the dance studio he works at, especially given the long hours he spends training his students late into the night (although Seokmin suspects he just finally got fed up with the mess he leaves around the flat and wanted a nice, clean little flat of his own). 

Okay, so maybe he’s not that pleased about being abandoned by his flatmate (“I’m only thirty minutes away by subway,” Minghao huffs when Seokmin grumbles about it for the nth time when they meet up for dinner a couple of weeks later. “Besides, phones do exist.”)

But overall, he’s quite content with his life. 

Or so he likes to tell himself, because if he acknowledges the grey that seeps into his chest some nights while he restlessly paces down the quiet corridors of his flat, solitude prickling at his eyes, then he might slip down the rabbit hole and fracture the carefully constructed façade. 

Sometimes, his friends test the waters, worried when the smile on his face starts to look a bit strained. 

“You’ve been a bit quiet these past few months,” remarks Jeonghan, placing a black forest hot chocolate in front of him, complete with a dozen little marshmallows. Seokmin gives him a grateful smile. “Talk to me, Seokminnie. What’s wrong? Are you still missing Minghao?”

He snorts, scooping out a mound of marshmallows and shoving them into his mouth. The sugar picks him up a little, the residual pressure from work melting away slowly. 

“It’s been nearly four months, hyung,” he replies dryly. “I am perfectly capable of living on my own.”

“Yes, but do you _want_ to?”

Seokmin blinks at the genuine worry clouding the older man’s pretty features, words catching in his throat. 

“You can come live with me,” Jeonghan offers, placing a hand gently over his. “We’ve got a spare room. Jihye won’t mind.”

As tempting as it is – the thought of living with one of his most favourite people in the world – he doesn’t want to play third wheel to Jeonghan and his girlfriend. And he’s far too attached to his own flat to even consider moving.

“I’m okay, hyung.”

Jeonghan sighs. “I wish I believed you.”

It doesn’t stop at that, and he’s pretty sure Jeonghan’s been tattling to the others when he receives a phone call from Seungkwan a few days later. With the newfound fame and the hectic schedule of an idol, they hardly get to see each other these days, even though Seungkwan’s always whining at them on their group chat. So when he promises to take Seokmin out to one of the best barbecue restaurants in the city, his treat, he knows to expect some sort of grilling (and not just of the meat). 

“So, there’s this new dating website where your friends can create a profile for you,” Seungkwan informs him excitedly over the hissing sound of the beef on the grill. 

Seokmin bites back a groan.

“It’s perfect for you, since you seem unable to create a good dating profile even if your life depended on it,” the younger man babbles, flipping the beef clumsily. And it is true, Seokmin had tried registering for a dating website once just out of curiosity, but then failed the first hurdle when he wimped out after being asked to describe himself for his profile. “I can create the profile for you this time, and _voila_ , you’re all set to go.”

“I don’t want to date,” Seokmin tells him bluntly, because he doesn’t. While he does crave companionship, perhaps intimacy, the whole prospect of painfully awkward first dates with disastrous matches is not something he wants to suffer through.

This is met with a raised eyebrow. 

“Hyung, you’re not even trying.”

“It’ll happen when it happens,” Seokmin mutters with a frown. “Now, shut up and tell me about how life’s been treating you.”

“How can I shut up and talk at the same time? Make up your mind.”

Seokmin kicks his friend’s shin under the table in retaliation. 

Minghao’s approach is a bit different. 

He just merely turns up at the door on a weekend with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. When he raises an eyebrow in question, Minghao tells him he’s planning to sleep over for a few nights, and without waiting for an invitation, barges into the flat. He sets up residence on the couch since his old room is now being used as a storage space by Seokmin. 

“I’ll never understand how you survive in this mess,” he says in exasperation, staring at the many food containers littering the coffee table in the living room. “You’re going to drown in all the junk you accumulate one of these days.”

Seokmin shrugs, letting the criticism bounce off of him, beyond pleased at the company.

“Not when I have you cleaning out the apartment every other fortnight,” chirps Seokmin, draping an arm around his friend and hugging him close. 

Minghao rolls his eyes. “Or maybe you should just make an effort yourself.”

It’s only when his friend leaves again after a few nights that he realises how lonely he is, on his own, away from his family, watching his friends grow up. 

And suddenly dating doesn’t seem like the worst idea.

*

_part ii: finding him_

*

“What’s with the mopey face?”

Seokmin snaps out of his maudlin wonderings, sitting upright when Soonyoung slams a pile of manuscripts on his desk and plops onto the chair across him. 

“What’s all this?” asks Seokmin, the muscles at the back of his neck already tensing up in anticipation of the answer. 

The other editorial assistant gives him a pointed look. “The manuscripts we need to summarise by the end of this week.”

Seokmin gapes at the small hill of paperwork. 

There are at least ten manuscripts in the pile, some of them rather thick and heavy. “That’s _tomorrow_ ,” he protests weakly. “Do they expect us to have a sleepover or something?”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly if I were you,” Soonyoung mutters, eyes darting around the spacious office floor, smiling widely at one of the administrative staff, Minji, who’s loitering by the water cooler. The girl goes a bit pink, fumbling with the plastic cup of water in her hand when she looks past Soonyoung and catches Seokmin’s gaze. 

“Yoongi-hyung’s been on the war path today. Apparently, Hyosang’s rejected all of his suggestions and demanded for a replacement once again, and the deadline for submission is in a week.”

Hyosang, one of the hottest best-selling authors of young adult fantasy fiction as of late, is also notorious for his stubbornness and arrogance, someone who most editors dread working with because of his sense of entitlement. Almost a year into his job with _Wings Publishing_ , and Seokmin had heard most of the horror stories about the author, how he’d reduced a couple of their junior editors to tears with his snide insults, how Yoongi’s the only editor who’s got the temperament and balls to handle his vitriol. Unfortunately for everyone involved, no matter how many times Yoongi’s tried to drop him, the executives are keen on holding onto one of their cash cows, and sadly Hyosang is a bit of a powerhouse when it comes to fantasy fiction. 

“Great, just what I need today,” Seokmin sighs, dreading the prospect of bearing the brunt of Yoongi’s frustration for the remainder of the day. 

Usually, he loves working with him, eager to mop up any of his genius even by breathing the same air as the older man. Yoongi, while known for his moods, is one of the most brilliant minds he’s come across in the world of publishing, with a keen eye for talent and knowing exactly how to polish a piece of work until it’s almost flawless by the time it passes into the hands of the production team. It’s a standard Seokmin hopes to achieve one day, once he’s ready to take on the role of an editor himself. 

But when Yoongi is in one of his moods, the only way to escape his wrath and ridiculous demands is to find and drag Kim Seokjin all the way from Marketing to placate him with his beautiful smile. 

“I swear Minji has a thing for you,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath before turning his full attention on Seokmin once again. “So, why are you so glum today?”

Seokmin shrugs, intent on ignoring the other’s curiosity. He gets along with Soonyoung, really well in fact, both of them pretty much in the same boat having joined the publishing house within weeks of each other. But Soonyoung is a social butterfly and has a habit of yapping about almost everything to everyone, meaning if he’s privy to some knowledge, most of the office would have heard it by the end of the day. 

And Seokmin’s non-existent love life is not something he’s keen to share with the rest of his colleagues. 

“I’m just not in the mood for work today.”

Soonyoung audibly gulps at that, eyes going wide as they stare at something over Seokmin’s shoulder. 

“Why, thank you so much for blessing us with your presence when you’re so _not_ in the mood for work today, Seokmin-sshi,” growls a low voice just by his ear. Heart leaping into his throat, Seokmin whirls around in his chair to see Yoongi looming over him. 

“Ah, h-hyung,” he stammers, sweat beading at his temples. “That’s not–“

“Perhaps sitting at this desk is just not stimulating enough for you,” Yoongi grits out, eyes gleaming sinisterly. “Let’s add some variety, shall we?”

Seokmin stares, speechless. 

“I am really craving some Dunkin Donuts, and a proper coffee. Why don’t you run off to get me some? Oh, and pick up some Jjajangmyeon on your way back,” says Yoongi, boring a hole into Seokmin’s head with the intensity of his gaze. “Now scoot. I need you back in the office in half an hour to get ready for the 2 o’clock meeting.”

Soonyoung gives him a sympathetic look when the editor disappears into his office without another word.

“How am I supposed to get all of that and get back here in time for the meeting in just thirty minutes?” Seokmin moans in defeat. “The _Dunkin Donuts_ is at least twenty minutes away, unless I somehow manage to acquire a quinjet for the trip.”

“I did warn you,” Soonyoung whispers, then quickly snatches one of the manuscripts off the desk, opening it to a random page and staring down with a look of utmost concentration. “You better run before he decides to add any more items to that list.”

He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know Yoongi is glaring at them through the glass wall of his small office. 

Despite his best attempts, he’s running at least ten minutes late by the time he manages to stumble back to the tall building that houses _Wings Publishing_ alongside a dozen other businesses, juggling a coffee in one hand and two bags of food in the other, with only seven minutes to spare before the office meeting. 

He’s so intent on crossing the threshold into the building through the revolving doors in time for the meeting that he doesn’t notice that someone else is rushing towards the same set of revolving doors from his right. 

“Wha–? Fuck, _ouch, that’s hot_!”

He stares with dawning horror as a large brown patch steadily spreads across a very white shirt, some of the Americano dripping down onto crisp grey trousers worn by a very tall and rather imposing figure. In his panic, Seokmin throws the carrier bags onto the floor, the box of doughnuts flipping upside down in the process, and grabs a fistful of the man’s shirt. No plan in mind, he starts dabbing at the stain with his hand ( _that’s a nice chest_ , his mind unhelpfully notes), but only manages to make it even worse by spreading it around. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just wait, stop, okay? Look, I said _stop_!” demands a deep voice, a slight lisp softening the words around the edges, despite the annoyance evident in his tone. 

“I-I’m so so _so_ sorry,” Seokmin stutters, face bright red in mortification, afraid to look up and meet the guy’s most likely thunderous glare. “I was in a r-rush and I, I honestly didn’t see you, but, _oh my god_ , I’m such a fucking moron, I’m really so– “

“Seokmin?”

Startled, Seokmin stops his rambling and looks up. And then keeps looking up. 

_Geez, how tall is this guy?_

The face that stares back is undeniably very attractive, the man’s dark eyes wide in surprised recognition as they stare at him unblinkingly. 

Recognition, that hits him right in his solar plexus like a well-thrown right hook when his brain processes the familiar features and spits out a name, his breath catching in his lungs in his shock. 

“ _Mingyu_?” he croaks out, completely wrong-footed. 

The astonishment on Mingyu’s face melts, eyebrows furrowing suddenly in a deep frown, lips pressing together in a firm line. A quick nod and then Mingyu ( _Kim Mingyu_ , his childhood best friend who’s somehow transformed into a living, walking piece of artwork over the years) steps back, clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s been a while.” 

Fifteen years to be exact. Not that he’s been counting (he kind of has).

Seokmin could only nod dumbly.

“Look, I’m running a bit late, so I better go,” Mingyu mutters after a few seconds of silence. “Try not to spill anything on anyone else.”

And then in a few long strides, he disappears into the building, leaving a gobsmacked Seokmin still gawking after him.

*

*

When Seokmin slinks back to his shared desk, sans coffee, Soonyoung spares the wonky box of squished doughnuts a sad look and then takes a double take when he sees the look on Seokmin’s face. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he comments, worriedly patting Seokmin on the back. “It’s okay, I’ll tell Yoongi-hyung I dropped the box and drank the coffee.”

Before Seokmin could reply, the devil himself appears in front of them and huffs at the state of the doughnuts before shooting a pointed look at him. “Where’s my coffee?” he asks, cutting right to the chase. 

“Um,” is all Seokmin has to volunteer. 

With a long drawn out sigh, Yoongi rubs at his temples, muttering, “Why’s everyone so fucking useless around here?”, which is a bit unfair really, when one counts the fact that Seokmin’s never missed a single deadline or pissed off anyone in the art department to date, precious lot they are. He has in fact even fielded calls from Hyosang several times when he’d managed to get on Yoongi’s last nerve and the editor had gone into hibernation mode in his office. But he doesn’t point any of this out because he needs an excellent reference and arguing with a cranky Yoongi never turns out well. 

Instead he silently offers the editor the carrier bag with the Jjajangmyeon, the only thing that survived his encounter with Mingyu intact, himself included. 

The frown on Yoongi’s frown fades a bit, eyes softening as he takes the offered bag with a grunt of maybe gratitude. “The doughnuts are for you two,” he says, taking some cash out of his wallet and haphazardly chucking the notes on the cluttered desk. “Eat, then get your asses down to the conference room for quarter past two.”

He then wanders off in the direction of the breakroom.

Soonyoung lets out a breath rather dramatically once Yoongi’s out of earshot. “He’s such a softie at heart,” he comments fondly.

Nodding absently, Seokmin picks up one of the deformed doughnuts and demolishes it in two big bites, flicking the cinnamon dust off his fingertips. He’s still reeling a bit from his unceremonious run-in with his childhood best friend.

“What’s this meeting about?” he asks quickly when he sees Soonyoung eyeing him suspiciously again, no doubt ready to ask more questions. 

Soonyoung shrugs, momentarily distracted. “Apparently, our esteemed art director wants us to meet his newest find, amongst a few other things.”

“They have a new employee?” Seokmin frowns. “Don’t they already have enough? All they ever do is sit in their swanky office and gossip over cake anyway.”

A snort interrupts his whingeing session. Wincing guiltily, Seokmin slowly turns around to meet the amused eyes of the youngest commissioning editor in their publishing house, the prodigy who unearthed and represents Jeon Wonwoo, one of the most popular science fiction authors of their time. 

“Oh, hey Jihoon, didn’t realise you were back already,” Soonyoung says behind him. “How’d the meeting with Wonwoo go?” His face is a carefully constructed mask of nonchalance. 

But almost everyone in the office knows of his humongous boner for the young author and there’s even a betting pool going strong on when Soonyoung might finally work up the courage to get into Wonwoo’s pants (Seokmin has bet on ten years because while he knows how thirsty Soonyoung is, he’s also seen his friend jeopardise his chances by always playing aloof whenever Wonwoo comes by to the office for meetings with Jihoon, to know that if left to Soonyoung, they’d probably never progress past exchanging awkward small-talk). 

“He’s on track, so we should be getting his next manuscript by the end of this month,” Jihoon replies with a knowing smirk. “He says hello.”

“Oh, well, h-hello to him too,” Soonyoung stammers, flushing pink. 

Seokmin stuffs another doughnut in his mouth to stifle his laugh. 

By the time they file into the conference room for the meeting, Seokmin’s almost managed to put his encounter with Mingyu out of his mind. 

That is until he sees the man himself sat in the seat next to Taehyung, engaged in a quiet conversation with the eccentric art director. The white shirt Seokmin had ruined is nowhere in sight, instead Mingyu’s now sporting a floral-patterned silk shirt, which looks a bit odd on his frame. Seokmin’s pretty sure he’s seen Taehyung wandering around the office dressed in that abomination a few times. 

He tries to make himself as small as possible, hoping Mingyu doesn’t notice him. And it works until Namjoon, their editorial director (another young prodigy, honestly Seokmin sometimes feels rather talentless in their company) makes them go around the room with introductions to make Mingyu feel welcome. 

“Lee Seokmin, editorial assistant,” he mumbles when it’s his turn, sinking further into his seat. 

Mingyu stares back blankly. 

When they’re all done, Namjoon smiles warmly at Mingyu and gestures for him to say something. Clearing his throat, Mingyu stands up and bows deeply, almost knocking over his glass of water, which Taehyung rescues smoothly without batting an eyelid.

“Hello everyone, I’m Kim Mingyu, and I’m very grateful and excited for this opportunity to join Wings Publishing as a designer,” Mingyu starts with a flustered smile, his deep voice strangely causing a shiver to run down Seokmin’s spine. “I’ll work hard to keep up to the standards of this renowned publishing house, and I am looking forward to working with all of you.”

He’s pretty sure his mind is playing tricks on him when the other man’s gaze lingers on him a bit when he says this. 

“He’s hot,” whispers Soonyoung, and he steps on the other’s foot in warning when Yoongi glances at them. 

For the rest of the meeting, he tries his very best to focus on the discussion, but his attention keeps wandering to Mingyu, eyes furtively taking in the sight of the designer, taking note of how the other man has changed since he last saw him. 

Gone is the scrawny little kid who used to hold his hand tightly on their way back home from school and wipe his nose on his shirtsleeves all the time. Instead, Mingyu’s now… _big_ , for the lack of a better word. Tall and broad around the shoulders, the silk shirt doing nothing to hide his defined musculature. His face hasn’t changed much, but his features have become more defined over the years. He’d always been cute as a kid, but the man now sitting a few chairs down is good-looking to a fault, enough to take his breath away. 

Seokmin almost feels jealous. 

But then Mingyu grins at something Seokjin says (probably a lame pun as usual, going by the flat look on Yoongi’s face), and he’s still got the sharp canines and slightly wonky teeth, and Seokmin feels a strange flutter in his stomach.

“I’m thinking of assigning him to Wonwoo’s new project,” Taehyung announces, looking over to Jihoon, who shrugs noncommittally. He turns back to Mingyu, who sits up a bit straighter. “Wonwoo’s one of the most chilled out authors we work with, but he’s very clear with what he wants, so I think it’ll be a good one to start off with.”

“Nice, we can mould him before the art department sinks their claws into him,” Soonyoung whispers quietly.

He’s not sure he shares Soonyoung’s enthusiasm. 

Seokmin and Soonyoung are the editorial assistants who mainly work with Jihoon and Yoongi, which also means they tend to liaise with other departments on the editors’ behalf to make sure manuscripts receive the star treatment as they pass from production to design to marketing before they hit the printing press. Sure, Soonyoung tends to do a lot of it when it comes to Wonwoo’s projects, but Seokmin’s the second pair of hands who steps in when the other man needs help. 

So, his plan to fly under the radar and stay out of Mingyu’s way is already shot to pieces, which is a shame since he’s pretty sure the other man probably hates him given their history. 

He must look less than enthusiastic as they trail out of the meeting because Soonyoung suddenly grabs his arm and drags him over to the breakroom. 

The only other person in the room is Jungkook, one of their free-lance photographers who spends a surprising amount of time loitering between the marketing department and the breakroom. Seokmin’s not sure when he gets the chance to take his pictures, but he always produces amazing results. 

“Okay, what’s with you today?” Soonyoung whispers, quickly looking over at the photographer to check if he’s listening, but Jungkook’s immersed in a game on his phone. “You look like someone whose dog died and then saw its spirit being eaten by a _Hollow_ on the same day.”

“Great analogy,” Seokmin says, trying to come up with a way to divert his friend’s attention. “Always appreciate an anime reference.”

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

“It’s nothing, honestly,” he sighs, already exhausted with the day. “I’m just tired from going to bed too late last night. I’ll feel better once I get a bit more sleep.”

“Hmm, I smell bullshit,” grumbles Soonyoung, crossing his arms. “But I’ll let it pass since you’re being so tight-lipped,” he sighs when Seokmin smiles sheepishly at him. “Just know I’m always here if you need to talk, okay?”

Seokmin swallows hard, suddenly feeling a bit choked up. “Okay, hyung.”

*

*

He rings Jeonghan after dinner.

“Do you remember Mingyu?” he asks as soon as Jeonghan finishes telling him about how he’d completely messed up an attempt at making kimchi pancakes for Jihye. 

“Mingyu?” Jeonghan echoes, then pauses before asking, “Wasn’t he one of your childhood friends?”

“Best friend,” Seokmin mutters.

“Yeah, the one who moved away, right?” When he doesn’t say anything in reply, Jeonghan asks. “What about him?”

“He’s working with us now,” he says, heart sinking when he remembers the way Mingyu had frowned at him earlier in the day, the way he had treated Seokmin as if he was just another new acquaintance at his new job. “Joined the office as a designer.”

“Oh, wow,” breathes Jeonghan. “That’s a rather serendipitous turn of events, huh?” 

“Serendipitous, hyung?” Seokmin laughs. “Did you swallow a dictionary for dinner?”

“Felt appropriate, that’s all.”

Seokmin sits quietly for a while, hand fiddling with a corner of the throw cushion on the couch, mind struggling to translate the strange, uncomfortable feeling brewing in his chest into words. He listens to Jeonghan’s even breathing, trying to latch onto the sense of comfort he always experiences around the older man. 

“Seokminnie? Are you alright? I remember you telling me how you guys didn’t part on the best of terms.” The concern in Jeonghan’s voice rings clear, and it kick-starts him into talking.

“Of course you do,” Seokmin smiles fondly. 

“Is he giving you a hard time?”

“No, not at all,” he says hastily. “Although, I won’t blame him if he did.”

A loud sigh greets him in response. “You were a naive kid back then, Seokmin. You can’t keep blaming yourself for something that happened when you were hardly old enough to understand what was going on.”

He’s a bit surprised when he feels the sting of tears in his eyes. He’d carried the guilt around with him for a good while, but over the years the memories had faded, the guilt along with it. But seeing Mingyu today seems to have scratched away at the scab, exposing the firmly bottled shame and pain. 

“I really hurt him, hyung,” he says thickly, wiping at the tears silently trailing down his cheeks. “He was my best friend and I just cut him out.”

“Look, if anyone should feel bad, it should be those bullies who put you in that position,” Jeonghan says firmly. “I’m sure Mingyu understands that now.”

He’s not sure he believes that, not with the way Mingyu’s face had hardened at the sight of him, wide smile fading almost instantly whenever their eyes had met by chance. 

“I should apologise to him, right?” he asks, sniffling a bit. 

“You do what you feel is right, Seokminnie,” replies the older man. 

There’s a world of difference between what he feels is right, and probably should do, and his ability to face any sort of conflict head-on. 

He’s always been a lot better at avoidance.

*

*

“Care to explain why you’re hiding out in the copy room?”

Seokmin jumps slightly, startled at the interruption. He’d been poring over a manuscript by a novice for the past two hours, jotting down notes in his notepad for the summary he needs to hand in to Yoongi by the end of the day. 

Yoongi, who’s currently peering at him from the entrance to the small boxy room, which has three photocopiers that takes up one wall of the room. There are a couple of cabinets squeezed in, with piles of paper reels stacked on top and around them. Seokmin’s tucked into the furthest corner, nearly hidden from view by one of the cabinets. 

The only other person who’s interrupted him so far has been Minji, who’d taken a double take, then stumbled over her words and feet when he’d politely greeted her, before making a quick exit after making a few copies of the documents in her hand. 

“Oh, uh, I needed some peace and quiet to properly focus on this manuscript,” he volunteers with a toothy smile, knowing the older man could see right through his flimsy excuse. “It’s actually quite good, has got some potential.”

Yoongi looks unimpressed. 

“Soonyoung’s out with Jihoon today,” he points out. “There’s no one else at your desk. Isn’t that good enough for you? Or is this your way of asking for your own office?”

Seokmin gulps. “Nope. Good enough indeed, I really do love that desk,” he says, quickly shuffling out of his hiding spot and slipping out of the room past Yoongi, who merely narrows his eyes at him. 

“You’ve been acting stranger than usual lately,” Yoongi comments, following Seokmin back to his desk. “Should I be worried?”

Seokmin suspects this observation is probably quite accurate. 

Strange just about sums his behaviour over this last week. He’s been extremely twitchy, once even head-butting Soonyoung in the nose by accident when the other man had merely clapped a hand over his shoulder in greeting and he’d reacted by leaping out of his chair in an attempt to…he’s still not sure what he’d been attempting. All he knows is that he’s been doing a fairly good job of avoiding Mingyu by looking over his shoulder every few seconds and beating a hasty retreat whenever he’s caught sight of the man, and Soonyoung had managed to catch him off-guard while he'd been inhaling his lunch of cup ramen at record speed. 

One notable incident had him diving into Yoongi’s office when he’d spotted the designer heading over to their desk, interrupting Yoongi’s lunch with Seokjin, and the glare he’d received had nearly stopped his heart on the spot. 

When he stops to think about it, it is a bit ludicrous how often he has had to dive behind desks and cubicles, and slip into offices and toilets to avoid Mingyu, especially since the office floor shared by the editorial department and the art department is massive, both areas separated by a long corridor and glass walls on either side, with the break room at the end of the corridor. He’s also pretty sure Mingyu’s workspace is on the opposite end to his, so chances of seeing him through the glass should be minimal. 

“Nope, I’m just being my usual strange self,” he laughs, hoping Yoongi would tire of the topic and barricade himself in his office as usual. 

The editor hums disbelievingly. “Fine, whatever you say,” he relents. “Anyway, I went looking for you because we need to talk to Taehyung about this bloody moron’s book cover today, since the idiot has finally agreed to stick to the deadline.”

The bloody moron being Hyosang, whose manuscript Yoongi’s clutching tightly in his grip. 

“We?” Seokmin’s mind goes blank. Venturing into the art department pushes the chances of running into Mingyu up to a hundred percent, and that’s a bit nerve-wrecking. “Why do you need me there?”

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows nearly disappears into his hairline. “ _Why_ do I need you there?” he echoes incredulously. “Okay, who works for _who_ here?”

“Sorry,” Seokmin mumbles, properly chastised. “I was just hoping to finish this manuscript before the end of the day because you need the summaries for tomorrow’s meeting.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “This meeting is only going to take half an hour, max. You know I can’t survive around those hipsters for long periods of time,” he mutters. “Plus I need you there to take notes of our discussion, so I have a record of what we discuss and know for sure Taehyung doesn’t deviate from Hyosang’s rather _specific_ requirements.”

And it’s a valid enough request, which is why he tags along behind the shorter man rather miserably, eyes darting around the art department, busy looking for Mingyu’s tall frame. 

The art department is set out a bit different to theirs, with the only two offices being the art director’s and an adjacent meeting room, unlike the editorial department that houses dedicated offices to all the editors and copyeditors in the department. Most of the art department is open plan, with numerous spacious tables taking up the middle of the large room and desks with massive computer monitors taking up the far end. It’s always a bit chaotic, with groups of people gathered around different parts of the tables, working on different projects, but also wandering around between groups. There’s also always cake available on most surfaces. 

Much to his relief, he doesn’t spot Mingyu amongst those milling around the large area. 

Yoongi ignores everyone as he makes a beeline for Taehyung’s office, and Seokmin bows to those who pay them any attention in his stead. 

When Yoongi walks in to the office, after a very brief knock and without waiting for a response, the art director is lounging in his massive chair behind the desk, two of his staff sat across on the other side of the impressive mahogany desk. 

Seokmin recognises Jisoo, one of their graphic designers, also Taehyung’s birthday mate and hence one of his favourite people in the department (even though Taehyung insists he doesn’t play favourites), and next to him, the current bane of Seokmin’s existence. 

He swallows a groan. 

Mingyu gives him a brisk nod in greeting when he sees him, but that’s all he gets before the other man turns back to Taehyung, who’s eyeing Yoongi uncertainly. 

“Hyung, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“We need to discuss Hyosang’s book jacket,” Yoongi says, not one to beat around the bush. 

As the colour drains from Taehyung’s face, Jisoo makes a poor attempt at hiding a smirk behind his hand and quickly stands, “Oh well, in that case I’ll catch you another time, Taehyung.” And then breezes out of the office in record time, but not before shooting a look of sympathy at Seokmin. 

Seokmin needs all the sympathy he can get. 

“Hyung, you interrupted an important meeting,” Taehyung whines, pulling at his hair with both hands in frustration. “An email or a call would have been appreciated.”

“Then you’d have run off somewhere to avoid this,” Yoongi points out. 

Taehyung doesn’t argue because everyone in the room, aside from Mingyu, knows it’s true. “Fine, let’s discuss his highness’s cover. Do you mind if Mingyu stays? I’m doing a bit of mentoring, and who knows? If he comes up with any good ideas, I might give it to him.”

“Whatever,” says Yoongi, then, “but he expects you to personally design it as usual.”

“I’m the _head_ of this department.”

Yoongi shrugs, then sits in the seat vacated by Jisoo and practically throws the manuscript at the art director, who dodges it in the nick of time before it lands on his face. 

“Holy hell!”

They’re halfway into a heated discussion around who should be taking the lead in the project, with Yoongi shooting down everyone Taehyung suggests and Taehyung refusing to take on the project himself, when Seokmin catches Mingyu sneaking furtive glances at him. 

He decides to ignore this, focusing his attention on scribbling down all the nonsense being discussed. 

And then, Yoongi notices him hovering over his shoulder. “Why are you looming over me like a creep?”

Seokmin nearly drops his pen in his surprise. “What?”

“Go sit down,” the editor insists, pointing at the seat on Mingyu’s other side. “You’re stressing me out.”

Shrinking a little in embarrassment when Taehyung raises an amused eyebrow at him, Seokmin perches on the chair, discreetly turning away from Mingyu. 

Once they manage to move past the topic of who’ll be doing what, the discussion finally turns to the book cover and Seokmin feels a bit sorry for the art department when he hears the long list of Hyosang’s demands. It certainly didn’t leave much room for creativity and the designers usually hated being told exactly what to do, especially Taehyung. 

Mingyu remains quiet for most of it, listening to the bickering intently, and then throwing in a few ideas later that actually sound quite reasonable to Seokmin, and he notices Yoongi giving the designer a few appraising looks, and weirdly enough, he suddenly feels very proud of Mingyu. 

So, without much thought he flashes a bright smile at Mingyu on the way out of the office, and then schools his face into a more professional mask when he sees the dumbfounded look on the other man’s face. 

_Shit, Seokmin, you’re not friends anymore_ , he berates himself as he trails after Yoongi. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a hand grabs his arm just as he’s about to enter the editorial department. 

“Do you have a minute?” asks Mingyu, a hesitant expression on his face, and Seokmin almost swallows his tongue in his surprise. 

“Uh, oh,” he glances behind him, but Yoongi’s already disappeared. “Y-yeah, sure, I have a minute. Well, more than a minute, actually. I’ve got quite a few minutes if you’re counting,” he rambles, then promptly shuts up when the hesitation gives way to faint amusement. 

Great, now Mingyu probably thinks he’s a moron as well as a jerk. 

Mingyu gestures towards the breakroom and he follows him obediently. 

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook is there once again, this time busy demolishing a multipack of crisps. Seokmin waves at him awkwardly as they walk past him. Mingyu leads them to a table in the far corner, putting enough distance between them and the photographer in an attempt to not be overheard.

When he takes the seat across from Mingyu, he stares at Seokmin for a while, so much so that he starts to feel slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. 

“What is it?” he asks once he can’t tolerate the silence. 

It seems to snap the other man out of whatever it is he’s thinking about (probably ways of getting back at him). 

Mingyu gives him a small smile, and the genuineness of it startles him. “You really haven’t changed much,” he says. “Your smile is still the same.”

“Oh.”

Did Mingyu just sound a bit fond or is Seokmin more sleep-deprived than he’d anticipated after watching _Train to Busan_ with Seungkwan last night?

“You’ve been avoiding me, right?” asks Mingyu, fingers fiddling with the watch on his wrist. He doesn’t look at him directly, but Seokmin still feels like he’s being watched somehow. 

Even though it is true, just admitting to it like that seems a bit rude and he doesn’t particularly want to offend Mingyu anymore than he already has. Especially since the other man seems to have decided to overlook some of it, enough to talk to him civilly at least. 

So, he tries to laugh it off. “Avoid you? Why would you think that?” he asks, complete with a forced laugh. 

“I saw you duck under a desk when you spotted me yesterday.”

Seokmin silently prays for the ground to swallow him up right then before he could embarrass himself any further. And Mingyu’s starting to get that amused quirk to his lips once again, and it is rather appallingly attractive, much to Seokmin’s distress. God, why did he have to grow up to be so fucking attractive? It’s distracting. 

Mingyu chuckles, eyes disappearing into perfect crescents as his features soften, suddenly looking a lot younger. “Thanks, I think.”

It takes a few seconds for him to realise that he’d been thinking out loud, and when he does, Seokmin feels all the blood in his body rush up to his face, mortification rendering him speechless for a moment. 

“I’m not usually this lame,” he explains weakly. 

“I don’t know, you were always quite lame in primary,” Mingyu snorts, then the words seem to catch up with him, and probably the memories as well, because his smile fades. 

Silence fills the space between them once again. He tries his best to tolerate it, to listen to what Mingyu has to say. But the other man is now staring at the table-top blankly, a slight furrow between his brows, and the guilt rushes up his throat once again until it forces the words out of him. 

“Mingyu, I–" Seokmin starts to say, only for Mingyu to cut him off. 

“If you’re trying to apologise, I don’t want to–"

“But I _am_ sorry!” he cries out, interrupting Mingyu. And then he can’t stop himself, the words pouring out unchecked. “What I did, back then, that was cruel and _stupid_ and I don’t even know how to start apologising for my behaviour, but I’ve never managed to forgive myself for it and I’d understand it if you can’t forgive me either.”

Mingyu stares back at him, looking a bit stricken. His eyes flick away before looking back at Seokmin, lips twisting into a grimace. “Seokmin,” he says simply, then reaches over and wipes at Seokmin’s cheek with a finger. 

To his surprise, the finger comes away wet, and Seokmin flinches when he realises he’s crying in front of Mingyu. To make matters worse, he’s pretty sure his nose is dripping as well. 

Classy. 

“I’m sorry, Mingyu,” he says again, trying to pour as much of his genuine feelings into the words as possible. “I’m _so_ sorry for hurting you.”

A sigh escapes the taller man. “Wait, let me get you a tissue. It’s not easy to have a serious conversation with you when you’re covered in snot.”

Seokmin snorts, watching Mingyu go up to the sink and collect a few paper towels from the dispenser. Jungkook is sneaking looks at them while trying to keep a façade of disinterest.

He sighs. 

This little breakdown is not going to do his image any favours. 

He smiles wetly at Mingyu when he sits back down and shoves the wad of paper towels at him. “Thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs, then says, “Look, we were both very young back then and like you said, stupid. You’re right, you _did_ hurt me, and I was very upset at the time, but that was a long time ago.” Seokmin’s lips tremble at the thought of poor little heart-broken Mingyu and feels a thousand times worse. “We’re working together now, and I’d like to be able to work with you without all of that getting in the way.”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Seokmin nods. 

“So, can we just try to move past it?”

“Yes,” he mumbles. “You know, it might help if you could smile at me a little bit more,” he adds gently. “The straight face is sort of intimidating.”

Mingyu laughs. “ _I’m_ intimidating?”

He shrugs. “Well, you’re kind of really tall and imposing and a lot,” he falters a little watching the smirk on the designer’s face grow. “So, that’s enough to intimidate anyone really.”

Mingyu watches him quietly, the smirk transforming into a subdued smile. 

By the time he decides to speak, Seokmin’s sure his face matches the shade of a very ripe tomato, and his hands are shaking slightly with the way his pulse has sped up. It’s all very unnerving. 

“Deal,” Mingyu says and reaches out a hand to him. “I’ll start smiling more and you’ll stop avoiding me, yes?”

Seokmin grasps his hand lightly, withdrawing quickly, ignoring the way his skin tingles where it touched Mingyu’s broad palm. 

“Deal.”

*

*

Mingyu keeps his end of the deal.

The next day, when Seokmin walks past him in the corridor, a wide grin greets him (canines and all) and he very nearly walks into a wall. Soonyoung gives him an odd look when he stumbles over his words, asking him if he’s feeling feverish (“You’re looking rather flushed.”) while he internally groans at the way his heart is doing jumping jacks. 

_It’s just a smile, get a grip_ , he firmly tells himself. 

He reasons that his nerves are because of their very recent reconciliation, after years of carrying very complicated feelings towards each other. It’s his fear of jeopardising the tentative camaraderie they’ve formed, the fear of messing up somehow and hurting Mingyu all over again. 

Minghao snorts after he listens to Seokmin ramble about it for a good half an hour over their weekend lunch. It’s been a stressful week, with the way he’d kept dropping things, bumping into things and people, and stuttering his words whenever he caught sight of the designer smiling at him, and he‘d finally dragged Minghao out for lunch for the purpose of venting. 

“Let me get this straight,” Minghao interrupts him. “This new guy is someone you were good friends with as a kid, then he left, and you’ve not seen him for a long time, and now he’s back and really hot, and you’re tripping over your own feet whenever he so much as looks in your direction.”

Seokmin frowns. “You’ve completely ignored the fact that we had a major falling out and only recently fixed things, but yeah, I guess.”

His friend stares at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“What?”

Minghao sighs. “Doesn’t this kind of remind you of those romantic comedy movie plots?”

“Huh?” Seokmin has a bad feeling about this. 

With an elaborate roll of his eyes, Minghao explains, “Childhood friends who drifted apart as kids, then fate brings them together as adults. Friend A has transformed into a beauty that has friend B feeling butterflies in their stomach, cue lots of gross pining. Eventually they both realise they fancy the pants off each other, decide to make out and then live happily ever after.”

Seokmin blinks, brain trying to compute everything Minghao’s thrown at him and mount a counterargument desperately. 

“Wow,” he says eventually. “Perhaps you need to stop bingeing on these crappy movies.”

Minghao flicks him on the forehead. “Don’t attack the movies when they’re right,” he says primly, ignoring Seokmin’s indignant yelp. “And do us all a favour and stop living in denial all the time.”

“I’m not,” Seokmin insists. 

But his conviction is sorely tested when he nearly chokes on his coffee when Mingyu walks into the editorial department a few days later, wearing a crisp striped grey suit and sporting an undercut, which contrasts starkly against his newly-dyed ash blond hair neatly parted to the side. 

Soonyoung and Jihoon, who’d been pouring over Wonwoo’s latest manuscript by their desk, look up in concern when he starts spluttering. 

“Do I need to perform the Heimlich?” Soonyoung wonders out loud, a hand thumping firmly on Seokmin’s back while he tries to catch his breath. 

“And what?” Jihoon scoffs. “Dislodge the coffee? I don’t think that’s quite how it works with liquids.”

Soonyoung scowls. “Well, I don’t see you offering any help.”

“Is he alright?” cuts in another voice, and even through the tears and coughing, Seokmin miserably recognises the warm timbre of Mingyu’s voice. Why is he doomed to always make an utter fool of himself when the designer's around? Fate really had an agenda against him. 

“Oh, he just momentarily forgot how to swallow,” Jihoon informs him, then smirks once he hears his own words. “Coffee, I mean.” Seokmin almost wishes he’d been knocked unconscious when Jihoon wiggles his eyebrows cheekily and Mingyu clears his throat awkwardly. 

Soonyoung stops thumping on his back, much to his relief, and whirls on Jihoon with a look of amazement on his face. “Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Seokmin tunes them out, finally gaining some semblance of control over his breathing. He uses the distraction of the others’ bickering to discreetly scan over Mingyu, appreciating the clean lines of the suit and the way it hugs his sturdy frame. _God_ , what he’d do to be able to run his hands up those impressive biceps and tousle his carefully styled hair and– 

Wait. 

He forcefully aborts his train of thoughts, suddenly feeling very hot under the collar. 

Ever since Mingyu’s walked back into his life, all grown up and confident, he’s always objectively appreciated his good looks, sometimes even been envious of how puberty’s obviously been very kind to his childhood friend. And sure, sometimes he’s even spent a bit longer than necessary admiring his strong features during meetings, but he’s never really taken those musings beyond that, perhaps because he’d spent most of those encounters obsessing over the thought that Mingyu probably hated his guts. 

Now, without the screen of their conflict between them, and Minghao’s words ringing loudly in his mind, Seokmin has no choice but to acknowledge it. 

He sneaks another quick look at the designer, heart nearly dancing a jig out of his chest when their eyes meet and Mingyu offers him a gentle smile. 

Yup. He’s screwed. 

He’s gone and formed a fat, ginormous and unforgiving crush on his childhood friend slash current work colleague. A friend he used to kiss as a kid. _Of all the clichés_ , he thinks grumpily on his way home. 

“I have to say, I’m a bit impressed,” Minghao smirks at him from his phone screen later that night. “I didn’t think you’d accept it so quickly.”

Seokmin’s tempted to end the call, annoyed by the smugness on his friend’s face. “I blame you for this.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You planted the idea in my head with all your nonsensical babbling about rom-coms.”

Minghao snorts. “Trust me, you were already living it. I just pointed it out.”

He hangs up.

*

*

The next couple of days are harrowing to say the least, pulse racing and butterflies causing havoc in his stomach whenever he catches sight of Mingyu. It almost feels like he’s back to how he felt when Mingyu initially joined their office, jittery and twitchy to the point where he’d taken a whole forty minutes to type a response letter one day, a job which usually now only takes him five minutes at most. The only difference now being that he’s not actively avoiding Mingyu, but wound tight in anticipation of when they’d cross paths next, just so he can gawk at him. 

Sadly, as fate would have it, Mingyu gets swept under a project and their encounters become sparse and brief. But the designer always has a smile ready for him, even when he looks like he’s seconds away from falling asleep on his feet after late nights of scrambling to meet the deadline. 

“You’ve been zoning out a lot recently,” Soonyoung comments while they’re both waiting for their coffee by the machine.

Seokmin cringes inwardly, because he knows it’s true. He has been zoning out, or rather daydreaming about how warm Mingyu’s hand had felt in his all those weeks ago when they’d shook on their deal, how he’d like to feel that warmth against his– 

“There you go, you’re doing it again.”

Seokmin clears his throat, trying to diffuse the warmth creeping up his neck. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind,” he says vaguely. 

“Is _that_ right?” Soonyoung smirks, raising an eyebrow. “You always get this dopey grin on your face when you’re doing it. I bet you’re not thinking SFW thoughts.”

“How’s your plan to get into Wonwoo-hyung’s pants coming along these days?” Seokmin asks flatly. 

It’s an underhanded move, but he needs to mount a defence somehow, and it always works like a charm. Just the mere mention of the author’s name and Soonyoung suddenly gets all tongue-tied and clams up. 

“There’s no plan,” he grumbles. “Don’t go around saying stupid shit like that. What if Wonwoo finds out?”

Seokmin smiles innocently, heading back to their desk with his Americano. “Well, at least there’d be some development in your slow-burn romance then.”

He snickers when a lot of incoherent grumbling follows his comment, sliding into his seat and opening his email to start drafting a pile of rejection letters to various authors, the _one_ part of his job that he really hates. He’s just about to start typing when Soonyoung makes a surprised sound. 

“What’s that?” Seokmin follows Soonyoung’s finger, eyes settling on a small tub of vanilla-flavoured _Ben & Jerry’s_ ice cream sitting innocuously on a paper towel on his desk, almost lost amongst a pile of manuscripts, not unlike the ones from the vending machine just outside their building.

Puzzled, he grabs it and inspects it closely, checking to see if there is anyone’s name scribbled on it. When sharing fridge and freezer space with a fair number of other employees, it’s an ingrained habit to label your food lest it disappears into someone else’s stomach. Not that it helps, but at least one had more grounds to be angry if someone took the food that obviously belonged to you. 

“Did someone forget this here?” he wonders out loud. “I’ve never seen Yoongi-hyung touch anything sweet. What about Jihoon-hyung?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Who cares? It’s ice cream and it doesn’t have anyone’s name on it. I say we eat it.” When he reaches over to grab it, Seokmin shies away and ignores the look of betrayal on the other’s face. 

“It’s on my side of the desk,” Seokmin says. 

“It’s _our_ desk, we both share it,” Soonyoung stresses, looking put out. “Someone could have easily left it for me.”

“Why would anyone leave you ice cream?”

“Why would anyone leave _you_ ice cream?” quips Soonyoung, trying and failing once again to wrestle it out of Seokmin’s firm grasp. 

“Is this what you do during work hours?” drawls a low voice, and they both look up from their squabble to see Yoongi staring at them with narrowed eyes. “Because I’m going to have to work that into your references if it is.”

That shuts them up rather quickly, ice cream left to the side, fingers busy on their keyboards until they’re sure the editor’s stopped peering at them through his office wall. Then they come to a truce, before escaping to the breakroom to share the small tub of melting ice cream. 

Strangely enough, it happens again the next day. 

Seokmin finds a tub of ice cream waiting for him when he returns to his desk from a comfort break, and this time, he’s pretty sure someone’s left it for him because Soonyoung is out of the office for the day for a couple of meetings Jihoon had scheduled with some of the new authors he is pursuing. Curious, Seokmin scans the office to see if he can identify the culprit and pauses when he catches Minji hovering by the water cooler once again. She’s fiddling with her phone while sipping on some water but keeps glancing in Seokmin’s direction. When she catches him looking at her, she drops her phone and rushes off in a mad scramble. 

He hesitantly inspects the tub once again, now a bit reluctant to eat it, because what if Minji had left it for him? If he eats it, then he might be inadvertently encouraging her, which is a shitty move, especially since he’s been aware of her attentions for a good few months and has been steadfastly ignoring them. 

Busy agonising over the thought, he’s properly caught off guard when Mingyu perches himself on the desk, just a couple of inches away from him. 

“Nngah,” is his intelligent greeting when Mingyu says a simple hello. 

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, amusement creeping into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Wordlessly, Seokmin returns the ice cream to the desk, afraid he might make more strangled noises if he tries to reply. The designer looks impeccable once again, dressed in a simple white shirt, maroon trousers and a checkered grey tie. Seokmin feels like a philistine next to him despite wearing a similar attire himself, sans the tie.

When he doesn’t answer, Mingyu flicks his eyes towards the ice cream tub. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to interrupt your snack time.”

“You’re not,” Seokmin says hastily. “It’s not mine.”

“Oh? Soonyoung-hyung’s then?” Seokmin holds his breath when Mingyu reaches across him to grab the little tub and lifts it to check the flavour. “Isn’t vanilla your favourite flavour?”

Surprised, he looks up, and then immediately regrets it when he realises how close the other man is, their faces only a couple of inches apart. The proximity itself is enough to undo him, but Mingyu remembering his favourite flavour is even more lethal with the way his heart stutters. 

“You remember that?” he asks, blushing when Mingyu smiles widely. 

“Of course,” says the designer, placing the tub back on the table. “We used to get ice cream almost every day after school.”

Nostalgia hits him right in the chest and Seokmin stays quiet, not knowing how to talk about the past without sniffling like a baby. Mingyu seems to sense it and promptly changes the topic. “Where’s Jihoon-hyung? I wanted to discuss Wonwoo-sshi's book cover with him. I’ve drafted a few jackets.”

“Out, meeting new potentials,” Seokmin replies, still reeling over the trip down memory lane. “He’ll be back around four.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, sounding a bit disappointed, but stays perched on the desk. 

Seokmin waits, puzzled by the fact that Mingyu’s fiddling around with his stationary instead of heading back to his department. He watches as Mingyu accidentally tips his box of paperclips onto the floor, the clips scattering messily. Mingyu curses under his breath and hastily kneels to collect them and stuff them back into the box before straightening up with a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry, I should probably leave before I cause any more of a mess,” he says, rubbing at his neck, eyes glued to Seokmin’s desk. It’s a change from his usual poise and Seokmin hides a grin behind his hand, endeared by his clumsiness, which he remembers well from primary school. 

“You should probably eat that before it melts.” Mingyu nods at the ice cream. “Even if it’s not yours, wouldn’t want to waste it, right?” he says mildly, then wanders off with a friendly clap on Seokmin’s shoulder. 

He’s left a bit bemused by the whole encounter. 

When Soonyoung returns to the office, he sees the empty tub of ice cream on the desk and huffs out a laugh. “I guess it really is for you.”

*

*

The ice cream tubs become a regular occurrence. 

And sometimes he would find an accompanying note with them, always typed. 

_Blue suits you_

_Every time you smile, I feel happy_

_Your hands are pretty_

_You’re so kind_

He tries asking around to see if anyone’s spotted someone leaving these gifts on his desk, but unsurprisingly, everyone’s too busy to pay it much attention. He even tries to approach Minji, to see if she might give something away, but the minute he opens his mouth to speak, she bows hastily and rushes off to her desk to hide behind the computer monitor. 

“She’s an odd one, isn’t she?” muses Soonyoung, who’d decided to tag along. 

“She’s just shy,” Seokmin mutters, truly dreading that she might be his ‘secret admirer’, the term coined by Soonyoung a few days ago. He’s not looking forward to letting her down, the mere thought leaving him nauseous. 

“Or maybe she really is your secret admirer and doesn’t want to be found out,” says Soonyoung, eyes narrowed in thought. “I do see her by the water cooler a lot and it’s right by our desk. It wouldn’t be hard to drop them off while she’s making that trip, right? She just has to time it right.”

Seokmin sighs. 

He’s flattered by it, he really is. Perhaps, if men weren’t his preferred choice of partner, he might have even reciprocated. Minji’s pretty, a bit too shy for his tastes, but her rounds cheeks and cute bob probably would have won him over. 

But as things stand, he is very gay. 

And he is also very much crushing hard on one Kim Mingyu, who happens to be perched on his side of the desk again when they return to it. 

This has also been happening on a fairly regular basis recently, much to his bewilderment. Sure, Mingyu is working closely with Jihoon and hence them (mostly Soonyoung) on Wonwoo’s new book, but most of the time the designers prefer to stay in their den and have the editors call on them, rather than venturing into the editorial department. Mingyu’s the only designer he’s encountered so far who actually brings his drafts to them without them having to chase him around the whole office. He’s also the only one who comes to arrange meetings with the editors rather than the other way around.

Of course, this means that the editorial department now worships the ground he walks on, with even Yoongi cracking a few smiles around him. 

Perhaps that is the strategy, to keep everyone sweet on him. 

“You’ve got ice cream again,” Mingyu informs him in lieu of a greeting. “Someone must really like you.”

Seokmin smiles helplessly.

“Well, I wish they would say it to my face,” he says, dropping into his chair. 

“Well, maybe they don’t know how,” remarks Mingyu, casually running a hand through his hair. 

Seokmin gulps, his core temperature rising at the sight of those long fingers sinking into glossy ash blond strands, the pale colour a sharp contrast to the darker buzzed hair on the sides. It’s a simple action, something Mingyu’s obviously done unconsciously, but Seokmin’s suddenly very grateful he’s sitting because the sight has him weak in his knees, a throbbing warmth pooling low in his gut. 

As inconspicuously as possible, he slides further down in his chair and scoots closer to the desk, so he’s got enough cover in case his body decides to betray him. 

A loud snort distracts him, and when he looks over, Soonyoung’s staring at him with an amused grin on his face. He very deliberately looks at Mingyu, then back to Seokmin, and raises an eyebrow pointedly. 

He is suddenly very glad Mingyu’s back is to Soonyoung, and so is missing the way the other man is waggling his eyebrows at him. 

“What are you doing here?” Seokmin asks, the words coming out a bit more abruptly in his alarm over Soonyoung’s antics. 

The designer looks a bit taken aback, and a bit lost for words. 

“What he means to say is,” Soonyoung butts in, rolling his eyes at Seokmin, “how can we help you today, Mingyu?”

“Oh, well, I’m nearly done with the final version of the book cover, should be done by the end of tomorrow.” Mingyu straightens up, no longer perched by Seokmin, and he spends a few seconds feeling terrible. “Could you let Jihoon-hyung know, please? I tried ringing, but it’s going straight to his voicemail.”

Soonyoung smiles brightly. “Sure! You know, next time you could just send me an email,” he teases. “I do check them pretty regularly. Unless you just like coming over to gaze at my beautiful face.”

Mingyu snickers, nose scrunching cutely. “Well, your smile does brighten up my day, so I think I’ll stick with my visits. Emails are too impersonal for me.”

Seokmin glares at Soonyoung while the older man preens under the compliment. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work?” 

Jealousy certainly makes even the nicest people petty, and Seokmin cringes inwardly when he hears himself. It’s just some harmless flirting. He knows Soonyoung’s far too gone on Wonwoo to even look at anyone else, but their playful smiles and banter still sets his blood to boil. 

“Seokmin!” Soonyoung frowns. “What’s _wrong_ with you today? Stop being so rude to poor Mingyu.”

Mingyu has the kicked puppy look down pat. He shifts a bit on his feet, looking between the two assistants uncertainly. The image prods at a memory, of a younger Mingyu, eyes wet with unshed tears as Seokmin firmly pushed him away. 

The guilt kicks in immediately, and he reaches over to grab Mingyu’s hand before the other man can move away. 

Mingyu stills, gaze drawn to their hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” Seokmin tries to ignore the tingling that starts in his hand, skin overly sensitive where it brushes against Mingyu’s hand. “I’m just feeling a bit cranky and I don’t know why.”

Fingers slip in between his until Mingyu’s firmly holding his hand, Seokmin’s somewhat dwarfed in his. It makes him feel a bit giddy, and he grins when Mingyu squeezes his hand in quiet acceptance of his apology. 

“You don’t?” Soonyoung asks innocently. 

Seokmin narrows his eyes at him threateningly, but it only makes the other man chuckle. 

“Actually, there was something else,” Mingyu blurts out, looking a bit nervous. “We’re going out for drinks tonight and I wanted to invite you guys.”

“Who’s we?” asks Soonyoung.

“Some of the designers from the art department, uh, and Taehyung-hyung.”

They stare at Mingyu in silence for a few beats. 

The art department often goes out for drinks, not all of them every single time, but they are a pretty closely-knit family and tend to spend a lot of time together outside of work as well, unlike most of the other departments in the publishing house. Seokmin thinks it has a lot to do with Taehyung and his sociable personality. 

He can count on one hand how many times the editorial department has had an outing together (but maybe that’s a good thing because he’d probably be on a tightrope if he’s out drinking with Yoongi and Jihoon). The only other person he sees from work on a social basis is actually Soonyoung, and even that is rare, given that the other assistant lives outside the city and commutes into work every day. 

So, the art department probably wins the ‘Department of the Year’ award for a good reason every time. But they’re also a private bunch, in the sense that they always arrange outings for themselves, but don’t necessarily mingle well with the others, which is why they are more than a bit surprised at this sudden invitation. 

“Do they _know_ you’re inviting us?”

Mingyu blinks, bemused. “Well, yeah.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung looks bewildered. “Well, I’ve always been curious about what they do during their night outs, so yeah, I’ll come.”

Mingyu frowns. “You guys don’t go out together?”

“It’s like some unwritten rule,” Seokmin explains. “The departments don’t necessarily mingle or socialise, at least not since we joined.”

“But I’ve seen Yoongi-hyung having lunch with Seokjin-sshi a few times.”

“That’s a special case,” Soonyoung waves it off. “They’ve been friends since high school.”

Mingyu huffs, back to perching on Seokmin’s desk. He still hasn’t let go of his hand, and Seokmin doesn’t bother pointing it out, enjoying the warmth a bit too much to want to let go just yet. 

“Well, I think it’s about time things changed a little bit,” Mingyu declares firmly, then direct his attention to Seokmin, hand tightening around his. “Are you coming?”

Usually he would refuse, preferring to spend time at home on the couch, glued to Netflix. And he’s not exactly that keen on alcohol, just two beers and he’s a flat pancake on the floor, but it’s not in him to disappoint Mingyu when he has such a hopeful smile on his face. 

“Yeah, why not?”

Soonyoung raises both eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. 

“Great, I’ll meet you guys by the lifts after work.”

When he leaves, Seokmin sits staring blindly at his computer screen for a few minutes, hand still tingling. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Soonyoung looking at him curiously. 

“I’m fucked,” he admits eventually. 

Soonyoung hums. “I can see that,” he giggles. “It seems like your love life is finally picking up, huh? A secret admirer and a crush all at the same time.”

*

*

“Wait, you guys grew up together?” Soonyoung asks loudly, cheeks already flushed from alcohol. He’s only managed to finish one beer so far. 

“Yup, well, to some extent,” says Mingyu, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the live music playing at the bar, the jazz notes lulling Seokmin into a bit of a trance when paired with the beer that he’s been sipping on for the past twenty minutes. “We went to primary school together and then I moved just before we started middle school, I think.”

“Wow, so you’re old friends, huh?” 

Seokmin shifts in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with the topic in question. 

“Should we get another drink?” he asks instead. 

“I’ve still got this.” Soonyoung waves around his beer. 

“I’ll come with you,” Mingyu volunteers, already standing and moving back so Seokmin can slip past him. 

“But then who’ll keep me company?” pouts Soonyoung. 

Mingyu gestures towards the rest of their group. Taehyung is slumped against Jungkook in one corner, the younger of the two showing the art director something on his phone. Just a few inches away from them, Jisoo is having a heated discussion with Hyoyeon, another one of the graphic designers. It’s not a big group, quite a few opting out at the end of the work day. To be fair, Seokmin would much rather be at home too, but Soonyoung wouldn’t let him escape and once Mingyu turned his puppy eyes on him, he couldn’t say no. 

“Fine, just hurry back,” Soonyoung grumbles, scooting over to join Jisoo and Hyoyeon.

Once they reach the bar, Seokmin quickly asks for another beer. Perhaps getting drunk off his face is going to be the easiest way to survive the night, especially when Mingyu seems determined to hover around him. 

“You alright?”

Seokmin shrugs, struggling to maintain eye contact when Mingyu’s face is only a few inches away. The other seems to have forgotten the concept of personal space. “I’m just a bit tired.”

Mingyu frowns, concern evident on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t pressure you into coming out tonight.”

“No, no, I made that decision myself,” Seokmin assures him, turning to accept the bottle the bartender’s offering. “Soonyoung-hyung really wanted to come anyway, and I can’t leave a fellow editorial colleague on their own with you lot.”

A grin spreads across Mingyu’s face. “We’re a nice bunch,” he says, leaning even closer to him. Seokmin wonders if he’s a bit drunk already, after all he did gulp down two glasses of wine only a few minutes into them arriving at the bar. “And we don’t bite.”

“Right, good to know,” he mutters, unnerved. “Shall we head back?”

The grin on Mingyu’s face fades a little, but he nods amiably and follows Seokmin back to their table. The guys at the table are now huddled together, all listening intently to Soonyoung, who’s very animated in his delivery. As soon as Seokmin slides into his seat next to his friend, all eyes turn to him. 

“So, who’s this secret admirer of yours, Seokmin?” chirps Hyoyeon, lips curled into a wicked smile. Seokmin’s pretty sure he’s only spoken to her twice since joining the office. 

“What?” He glares at Soonyoung, who only smiles tipsily at him. 

“We hear you’ve been receiving ice cream every day,” chimes in Taehyung, and Seokmin internally shrivels at the fact that one of his bosses, even if indirectly, is now privy to his awkward little situation. 

“And notes,” Jisoo adds.

“I’ve been dying for a good old office romance,” Hyoyeon gushes at him. “And this is just _too_ cute!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Seokmin tries to shrug it off, shrinking into his seat. “Just someone being nice.”

“I wish I had someone being nice to me,” Jisoo says wistfully. Taehyung pats him gently on the back in sympathy, nodding. 

“Does anyone know who it is?” Hyoyeon turns to Soonyoung, who’s swaying a little in his seat, head whipping back and forth as he bears witness to the damage he’s done with not a hint of remorse on his face. 

“The term ‘secret admirer’ suggests that the person is unknown,” comes Jungkook’s snarky answer, which gets almost everyone at the table giggling aside from Seokmin and Hyoyeon, who looks like she’s just sucked on a very sour lemon. 

“Minji,” Soonyoung blurts out, his words slurring just a little. 

Seokmin kicks him in the shin, earning a pained yelp. 

“Who?” says Mingyu, with a curious tilt of his head. 

“Minji, as in the cute admin with the bob?” Hyoyeon asks, eyes lighting up with delight. “Wow, she’s so meek and quiet, I wouldn’t have expected her to be so gutsy.”

“What’s _gutsy_ about leaving secret gifts and notes?” questions Jungkook, and this time Hyoyeon reaches over to pinch his arm hard. “Keep going, brat, and I’ll tell Seokjin all about your little crush on him.” Jungkook goes a bit wide-eyed at that. 

“Please don’t,” implores Taehyung, draping a protective arm around the younger man. “He won’t survive Yoongi-hyung, and I can’t afford to lose my best photographer.” 

Seokmin breathes a sigh of relief when their attention shifts to the ever-complex relationship between their Marketing head and Yoongi, some convinced they are actually dating and not just ‘good friends’. He glances at Soonyoung, who’s now slumped against the table, eye unfocused as his blood alcohol level steadily rises. 

“What are you going to do about Minji?”

Mingyu’s peering at him over his wine glass, face strangely devoid of any emotions. 

“Nothing,” Seokmin replies, fiddling with his beer bottle nervously. Being questioned about his secret admirer by his crush sure takes the cake for awkward situations he’s encountered in his short life. “I’m not sure it’s her, anyway. It’s just Soonyoung-hyung’s theory.”

“But what if it really _is_ her?” Mingyu presses on.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to turn her down,” Seokmin sighs, the thought making him feel nauseous once again. 

“Oh.” Mingyu’s suddenly very intent on his wine glass, swirling the dark red liquid around in the glass restlessly. He curses under his breath when he accidentally spills some onto the table. “You don’t like her?”

Seokmin stares at the designer, surprised by his interest. It makes him wonder whether _Mingyu’s_ interested in Minji, and maybe the thousand and one questions are because he’s jealous. 

“I don’t like _women_.”

Mingyu looks up, locking eyes with him. He appears a bit stunned, and Seokmin momentarily regrets opening his big fat mouth. That’s usually Soonyoung’s job, as proven only minutes ago. He’s not even sure why he’s just outed himself to Mingyu, especially since only a handful of people at work know which way he’s inclined; a handful meaning just Soonyoung, who’s miraculously managed to keep it to himself so far. 

Maybe it’s because he still sees Mingyu as his long-lost best friend, even if the other man treats him just as he does any other work colleague. 

Or maybe he’s just fed up with the whole ‘secret admirer’ discourse, especially when he doesn’t even want one.

“Oh, well, yeah, that’s a slight issue,” says Mingyu, then seems to realise how ridiculous he sounds and starts to turn red, especially when Seokmin snorts loudly. 

“Yeah, just a _slight_ issue,” Seokmin deadpans. 

Mingyu chuckles, scratching his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry, you just took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised too.”

Mingyu raises his eyebrows slightly, then turns to look at the others, who are all still busy arguing over Yoongi’s supposed love life. “Do they know?”

“No, it’s not something I’ve ever had to talk about,” Seokmin says evenly, and Mingyu seems to get the hint and doesn’t ask any more questions. 

But he does smile very gently at Seokmin and reach across the table to take his hand, squeezing it when Seokmin startles at the contact. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words nearly lost under the cadences of jazz.

Seokmin blinks, puzzled. “For what?”

“For trusting me.”

Mingyu says it very matter-of-factly, but the words resonate within him, crumbling those last few walls he had around him, Mingyu easily slipping in and carving a special place in his heart for himself once again.

*

*

“When did you know?”

Seokmin looks up from his lunch. Mingyu is watching him, head tilted to the side curiously. 

“Know what?” he asks, flushing a bit under the attention. 

The designer leans back in his chair, tipping it back on its hind legs dangerously, gaze still focused on Seokmin. They are having lunch in the breakroom, just the two of them, because Soonyoung had abandoned Seokmin halfway through when Jihoon came to collect him for a meeting. 

Seokmin had nearly gone with him, but Mingyu had given him a rather forlorn look and he’d quietly sat back down to keep the other company. 

“That you’re gay.”

Seokmin stills, surprised. It’s a very personal question, and he almost wants to tell Mingyu to mind his own business, but then again, he did trust Mingyu with the little fact, and his curiosity is understandable under the circumstances.

“Um, in uni, there was this guy,” he mumbles. 

Mingyu hums thoughtfully. “Your first boyfriend?”

Seokmin snorts. “No, he was straight.” Mingyu furrows his eyebrows in sympathy, and Seokmin waves it off. “I wasn’t that hung up on him, so it was okay. But when I think about it, he wasn’t really the first guy I was attracted to, I just wasn’t ready to accept it in high school.”

Mingyu nods, swirling his chopsticks in his Jjajangmyeon restlessly. He has his head bowed, making it hard for Seokmin to see his expression. It’s making him a bit antsy, and he thinks about leaving again. 

After a long pause, Mingyu looks up and locks eyes with him. He looks nervous, eyes a bit vulnerable, and Seokmin worries he’s made the designer uncomfortable with his admission. He really should have kept it to himself. 

“I knew when I was a lot younger,” Mingyu says softly. 

“What?”

Mingyu sighs, looking around and shifting in his seat. “I like men, too.”

Seokmin blinks. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that, and it takes him a moment to process the comment, but it kindles an excitement in his gut, hopeful. But it’s immediately followed by an uncomfortable thought. 

“Did you feel obligated to tell me because I came out to you?” he asks hesitantly. 

Mingyu looks surprised. “No, not at all. I _wanted_ to tell you, because we’re friends, right?”

The casual way he says it fills Seokmin with a fuzzy feeling, a lump forming in his throat. “Yeah, of course we are,” he assures the other man, smiling widely. 

Mingyu stares at him for a while, seemingly lost in thought. 

“I struggled with it, initially, after what happened in primary,” Mingyu murmurs, face solemn. Seokmin feels a sharp stab of guilt, ducking his head and breaking eye contact. “No, I’m not saying it was your fault,” Mingyu hastily says, reaching out a hand and touching Seokmin’s wrist gently. “I think you were as much a victim as I was, but it left its scars on me. I _hated_ myself for quite a few years, until my mum sent me for counselling when I was fifteen. That helped.”

Seokmin swallows hard, the lump in his throat growing, until he feels tears prickle at his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mingyu.”

Mingyu snaps out of his reminiscing, a bit flustered when he sees the wet sheen in Seokmin’s eyes. “Hey, honestly, I don’t blame any of it on you. I just wanted to tell you because I knew you'd understand.”

But Seokmin knows he’s at least partly responsible for Mingyu’s scars. “I wish I could go back in time and protect you from all of that. I should have stood by you.” 

Mingyu laughs. “It’s easy to blame and punish yourself in hindsight, but when it’s happening to you, in that moment, self-preservation kicks in for everyone.”

It amazes Seokmin, Mingyu’s capacity to forgive and accept. He doubts he would be so mature about it if he were in the other’s shoes. 

“Your heart is too big,” he informs Mingyu. 

The designer smiles bashfully. “Only when it comes to certain special people.”

His heart stutters. “Mingyu,” he murmurs, at a loss for words. 

“I missed you,” says Mingyu, voice tentative and eyes tender.

And with those three simple words, Seokmin falls

“Me too,” he tells him, clasping Mingyu’s hand tightly in his. 

_I’m done for_ , he thinks helplessly.

*

*

It’s a lovely summery day outside, and yet they’re all gathered in Seokmin’s living room, for the sake of protecting Seungkwan’s privacy. It’s one of those rare days the idol’s managed to get off, away from his busy schedules. 

And instead of having the time to relax, he’s being subjected to Seokmin whining over his love life. 

He only feels slightly bad over it, especially considering Seungkwan’s always been a loud advocator of him getting a boyfriend. 

“I honestly don’t see why you’re complicating this so much,” grumbles Seungkwan, munching on some kimchi-flavoured seaweed. “You like him, oh sorry, excuse me, you _love_ him,” he trills and dodges the punch Seokmin aims at him. “And by the sounds of it, he likes you too. So why don’t you just ask him out?”

“He _likes_ me?” Seokmin asks, doubtful. No, wait, he knows Mingyu likes him, but he’s not a hundred percent sure it extends beyond friendship for the other. 

“He does seem to spend an excessive amount of time at your desk,” says Jeonghan. “And he asked you out for drinks.”

“He asked both me and Soonyoung-hyung,” he points out. “And he’s at our desk a lot because we work on the same projects.”

“Yes, and email and internet don’t exist in their office,” comments Minghao with a smirk. Seokmin rolls his eyes at him. 

“I think you’re just being stupid, hyung,” Seungkwan frowns. “And purposefully obstinate in not accepting the facts.”

“It’s not as straightforward as you think. I have history with h–“

A loud groan comes from Jeonghan’s direction, the older man burying his face in one of the throw pillows on the couch. 

“Oh my GOD! Seokminnie, please stop obsessing over what happened in the past when you were both babies!” he whines and Seokmin spares a few seconds to feel bad because Jeonghan’s probably the one person who’s had to listen to him moan about it the most. 

“Yeah, seriously, we’re a bit tired of this history card,” mutters Seungkwan. 

Seokmin pouts. 

“Look, he’s told you he’s interested in men as well.” Minghao ignores his grumblings about how not every gay man is jumping to date the other just because they’re gay. “What if he wanted you to know so that you’ll consider him as a potential candidate for dating?”

“That’s a big assumption,” Seokmin argues. 

“Kiss him and find out,” suggests Jeonghan.

“And what if he doesn’t like me like that?”

“Then you’re fucked,” says Minghao, very matter-of-factly. Seungkwan snorts in the background and Seokmin sighs in defeat. 

But his friends do have a fair point. If he doesn’t test the waters, he’s just doomed to an unrequited love, and that would suck. 

And luckily for him, work presents him with the perfect opportunity by announcing their annual summer barbecue only a few days later. Asking Mingyu to go to the barbecue with him might work, in that he could always pass it off as just a friendly work outing if Mingyu’s not keen on it being a date. 

So, on the Wednesday before the barbecue weekend, he cautiously approaches the designer in the breakroom while he’s rummaging through the snack box. 

“I think Jungkook’s eaten all the sweet potato chips,” he offers. 

Mingyu lets out a small squeak in his surprise, a hand clutching the left side of his chest. “What are you, a _ninja_? Sneaking up on me like that.”

Seokmin chuckles. “I doubt you would have heard an elephant approaching you with the ruckus you were making just now.”

That makes Mingyu laugh, his whole face lighting up with delight. Seokmin’s not sure if it’s just a side effect of having fallen in love with him so recently, or whether he just needs a visit to the opticians, but Mingyu seems to positively glow in his eyes now, not a single imperfection visible to him. 

“Coffee?” Mingyu asks, reaching for a cup. 

Seokmin gratefully nods, spending a little while admiring the way Mingyu’s red shirt contrasts so prettily with his tan skin. He’s so busy staring at the sharp cut of his jaw that he doesn’t realise Mingyu’s staring back at him, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“Sorry, what?”

A small smirk tilts the corner of Mingyu’s lips. “I was just asking if you’re planning to go to the office barbecue.”

Blushing furiously, Seokmin coughs a little to hide his embarrassment. 

“Yeah, it’s the event of the year,” Seokmin replies, accepting the coffee Mingyu offers him with a nod. “Soonyoung-hyung will never forgive me if I don’t show up to team up with him for the games.”

“I suppose I better turn up just to make sure you guys crash and burn,” Mingyu smirks. 

“I hardly think _you’re_ competition enough for us,” Seokmin scoffs. 

Mingyu takes a few long steps towards him, until he’s looming over him. Seokmin forgets how to breath for a few seconds, going a bit cross-eyed at the proximity. “You’re on,” Mingyu breathes, eyes intent. 

For one brief crazy moment, Seokmin thinks Mingyu might actually lean down and kiss him, and he almost tilts his head back invitingly, but then Mingyu giggles and steps back. 

“You look a bit stumped,” he comments lightly. 

“Shut up,” Seokmin mutters, the fading blush from before coming back in full force. “It’s unfair to use intimidation techniques.”

Mingyu snorts. “That’s what games are all about.” 

Then he straightens up, getting ready to leave, and Seokmin panics, not wanting to miss the opportunity. He blurts out, “Hey, d’you want to maybe go to this thing together?”

Mingyu stops in his tracks, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. 

“Together?”

“Y-yeah, you know, just as a f-friendly outing,” he stutters, sweat starting to bead at his temples. 

For a minute, Mingyu looks quite excited at the idea and he’s almost certain the designer would agree, but then Mingyu pauses. “Actually, I’m already meeting someone before the barbecue, and we’ll be heading over there together, so it might be a bit tricky to–“

Seokmin feels like someone’s reached right through his rib-cage, plucked out his heart, thrown it to the floor and stamped on it several times with a spiky heel. But he musters up a bright smile to cover up the crushing disappointment. 

“Sure, no problem,” he grits out through the blinding smile. Mingyu’s starting to look slightly concerned. “I’ll just see you there. Okay, bye.” And then nearly sprints out of the breakroom before Mingyu could say anything. 

Once he gets back to his desk, he sends a rather aggressive _‘I fucking hate my life and you guys are the worst’_ to the group-chat and then mutes it so he wouldn’t have to deal with their concerned questions. 

When he spots the ice cream on his desk, along with a note saying _‘Your eyes sparkle like the stars’_ , he chucks it into the bin by the desk and gives Soonyoung a warning look when he opens his mouth, no doubt to whine. 

For the rest of the week, he alternates between feeling sorry for himself and being angry at himself for being idiotic enough to fall in love, with a work colleague, no less. It’s nigh impossible to escape Mingyu at work, but the sight of him has him cringing away in humiliation every single time. 

If Mingyu notices his sudden cold reception, he doesn’t say anything. 

And yet, despite his foul mood that even Yoongi picks up on, the ice cream makes an appearance on his desk every day like clockwork. 

_At least someone likes me_ , he thinks bitterly, munching on the ice cream while reading through the pile of notes from the admirer he’d saved on his desk.

*

*

He’s dragged to the barbecue by a very insistent Soonyoung despite his best attempts at disappearing into his bed on Saturday. By the time they turn up at the popular barbecue spot by the river, quite a few of their colleagues are already gathered in small groups around two large grills (manned by Yoongi and Seokjin), the smell of smoky sausages and burgers heavy in the air. 

“Oh, good! You’re just in time for the games!” exclaims Jungkook, hopping excitedly on the spot and flashing a toothy smile at them. “We’re going to kick your asses this year.” 

The photographer’s fiercely competitive nature is out in full force and by the sounds of it, he's still bitter over being beaten at the obstacle race by Soonyoung and Seokmin last year. 

“You’ll be eating your words soon enough, kid,” shoots back Soonyoung, eyes lit with the fire of rivalry. 

Seokmin gives them both a flat look, stubbornly clinging onto his sour mood. 

A mood that darkens even more when he catches sight of Mingyu, looking rather radiant in a white shirt tucked carelessly into khakhi shorts, stood a few feet away from one of the grills chatting to Jisoo. Next to him is a guy he’s never seen before, someone who looks like he’s walked straight out of a Hollywood movie set, his foreign features starkly standing out. 

“Who’s that?” Soonyoung asks, following his gaze. 

Jungkook stops trying to fit an entire hot dog into his mouth to glance over. “Don’t know,” he shrugs absently. “He came with Mingyu.”

“Oh, right.” Soonyoung steals a worried glance at Seokmin, but he ignores his friend, choosing instead to stalk over to one of the coolers lying around on the grass and grabbing a beer to drown his sorrows. 

“Wow, do you think it’s a good idea to get drunk before the obstacle race?” asks Soonyoung, having followed him and now gaping at him as he downs the beer. 

“Screw the obstacle race,” he snaps, then regrets the sharpness of his words a little when he sees the other man’s expression shutter. “I’m sorry, hyung, just ignore me.”

Soonyoung sighs, eyebrows furrowing into a small frown. “Seokmin, maybe you should just talk to him,” he suggests carefully. Seokmin grits his teeth, not wanting to snap at Soonyoung again. “You’re just making assumptions. You don’t know what sort of a relationship they have.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious,” Seokmin mutters, glowering at the way Mingyu has a hand clasped gently on the guy’s shoulder. 

As if sensing the glare, Mingyu looks up, eyes locking onto his. He starts to grin, lifting a hand to wave, but then seems to register his stormy expression and the grin quickly fades, bemusement taking its place. 

“You look ready to maim someone,” says a deep voice, an amused lilt to it. 

Startled, he looks to his side, coming face-to-face with a smirking Wonwoo. Jihoon’s with him, eyebrows raised in question. “I didn’t think you were capable of anger,” Jihoon comments airily. 

Soonyoung makes a small noise next to him. “Hey Jihoon,” he mumbles, face a little pink. Seokmin’s not sure whether it’s from sun exposure or from his proximity to Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo snorts when he gets ignored. “I’m standing right here,” he informs the assistant, nudging him in the arm. Soonyoung stumbles back, grunting an incoherent greeting at the author. 

The amusing exchange momentarily distracts Seokmin from his troubles, a smile tugging at his lips when Jihoon sighs tiredly next to them and mutters, “When will this end?”

The few seconds of distraction is all it takes for Mingyu to sneak up on them. “Hey guys,” the designer greets them, eyes lingering on Seokmin a little, who bites back a groan. “Nice day, isn’t it?” By his side, Mingyu’s friend nods amiably at them. 

“Well, if it isn’t our favourite designer,” says Jihoon, eyes crinkling in a smile. “How’re you enjoying your first Wings barbecue?”

“Oh, I’m really loving the effort they’ve gone to with the preparations for the ga–“ 

“I think they’re starting the games,” Seokmin interrupts him rudely. “Come on, hyung, let’s go,” he says, grabbing a blushing Soonyoung who’s still avoiding eye contact with Wonwoo. He ignores the surprised looks on everyone’s faces as he drags Soonyoung towards where Jungkook and Taehyung are tying a piece of cloth around their legs in preparation. 

He doesn’t see the flash of hurt that passes over Mingyu’s face. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” grumbles Soonyoung next to him, but obediently accepts the length of cloth Jungkook gleefully hands him when they get to the start line. Other pairs are lining up as well, each representing their respective departments. 

Seokmin ignores Soonyoung’s rebuke and bends down to tie the cloth around their legs, despite knowing deep down that he’s being petty and childish. After all it’s not as if he has any sort of a claim over Mingyu, and he was free to attend barbecues with anyone of his choosing. 

_And obviously, that person is not me_ , he thinks glumly. 

When he straightens up, Mingyu’s next to him. 

He nearly yelps. 

“Can we talk after this?” Mingyu whispers, eyes boring into his intently. 

He clears his throat, collecting himself quickly. “Why?” Next to him, Soonyoung is trying his best to pretend as if he’s not eavesdropping. 

“Please?” 

Seokmin swallows hard, his resolve weakening at the imploring look on Mingyu’s face. He nods quickly, noting the relief that settles into the other’s features. 

“Mingyu, where’s your partner?” yells Seokjin from the end of the line, where he’s partnered up with Hoseok from Marketing. Moment broken, Mingyu jerks back in surprise when he realises the crowd gathered around the starting line is staring expectantly at him and Seokmin. 

Seokmin fidgets under the attention. 

“Hurry up!” calls Jungkook, itching to start the three-legged race (It’s the first lap of the obstacle course, followed by a wheelbarrow race, and lastly a sack race to the finish line). 

Mingyu looks around, eyes scanning the crowd before lighting on someone. “Hansol, help me out here!” he shouts, and to Seokmin’s displeasure, his plus one wanders over with a sheepish look on his handsome face. 

“If you mess this up because you’re having a hissy fit, I’ll tell Yoongi-hyung about the time you ate all the cookies Seokjin-hyung baked for him,” growls Soonyoung from his side, and Seokmin gives him a betrayed look. 

“See you at the finish line,” Mingyu sing-songs on his left. 

Seokmin really wishes he’d stayed in bed.

*

*

“There you are,” comes the familiar voice. 

Seokmin stifles a sigh. 

He’s been hiding behind a thick oak since they wrapped up the obstacle race (Seokjin and Hoseok winning it for the marketing department this year, much to Jungkook’s frustration and everyone else’s surprise, including the winners’). Soonyoung had flounced off in a huff after the game, annoyed with Seokmin for letting Mingyu distract him and costing them their win. Once on his own, he’d almost left, but then Namjoon had graciously ordered fried chicken for everyone and he’s never been one to turn down free food. 

“I was worried you’d left,” Mingyu says, sitting down next to him. 

As usual, he looks unfairly attractive, even after landing on his face a few times during the race. 

“What’s up?” Seokmin asks, shifting away minutely. 

Mingyu stares at him silently for a while, studying his face intently. 

“You seem angry with me,” he finally says. 

_No shit, Sherlock_ , Seokmin thinks spitefully. “I’m not,” he lies instead. 

Mingyu sighs. “Seokmin, give me some credit,” he says wearily. “I know you well enough to know when you’re angry at me.”

“Well, you obviously don’t know me _that_ well.”

A frustrated sound escapes the designer, his tall frame slumping back against the tree at their backs. “What did I do to piss you off?”

“Nothing, I don’t really care what you get up to,” Seokmin mumbles, regretting his decision to stick around for the chicken. 

A large hand clasps around his wrist, making him flinch in surprise. When he tries to pull away, Mingyu tightens his grip. “Look at me,” he demands, and it sends an involuntary shiver down Seokmin’s back. “Please.”

He does, meeting Mingyu’s eyes, sucking in a surprised breath when he realises how close the other man is, their faces only inches away. Something flickers over Mingyu’s face, gaze flicking down to his lips. Seokmin falters when Mingyu unconsciously licks his lips, eyes darkening. The beat of his pulse gets louder in his ears, picking up its pace, drowning out the sounds of their friends’ chattering in the background, his focus on the hitch in Mingyu’s breathing. 

“Why are you mad at me?” Mingyu asks again, voice deeper than usual.

Seokmin swallows hard. 

“I can’t tell you,” he replies, voice trembling a little. 

“Why not?” asks Mingyu, although Seokmin’s not sure how much attention he’s paying to the conversation at this stage, with the way he’s steadily inching closer to him, eyes intent on his lips. 

Seokmin’s certainly not able to think straight. 

“Because then you’ll know that I–“

“Hyung!” 

Seokmin leaps back, nearly falling over backwards in his rush to put enough distance between him and Mingyu. The designer lets out a muffled curse, taking a deep breath to school the look of utter frustration on his face into a more tolerant one before turning to Hansol, who’s peering around the tree at them with a curious look. 

“The chicken’s here,” he informs them. “You better move fast if you want any.”

It’s the perfect excuse, and Seokmin quickly scrambles to his feet, avoiding Mingyu’s stare. “Great, thanks for letting us know,” he says before legging it over to where Soonyoung’s chatting to Wonwoo via Jihoon. 

He’s not sure what almost just happened, but one thing’s for sure. If he’s left on his own with Mingyu, all common-sense deserts him. He’s certain he would have kissed him if Hansol hadn’t interrupted them. 

He cringes, thinking of how that would have turned out. 

Soonyoung gives him an assessing look when he joins them. He’s pretty sure his face is still flaming red, but the others don’t comment on it.

“Are you done being stupid?” Soonyoung asks. 

“Not by a long shot,” he mutters, which earns him an amused huff from his friend. 

“Well, you missed out on Minji confessing to Soonyoung while you were off hiding,” Jihoon says offhand, and Soonyoung coughs awkwardly. 

‘What?” Seokmin gapes at the other man, gobsmacked. 

“I thought he was going to perish on the spot,” snorts Wonwoo, although he looks a bit irritated. “Never seen him turn so red.”

"Really?” Jihoon asks him disbelievingly. 

Wonwoo smoothly ignores the pointed look. 

Soonyoung whimpers. “Guys, this is not funny. She looked so upset when I turned her down.”

Seokmin’s still reeling from the curveball. The day just keeps getting stranger and stranger. “Minji confessed to _you_? But I thought she was _my_ secret admirer.”

“Obviously not,” Jihoon smirks. 

Soonyoung gives him a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Seokminnie. Turns out my deduction skills suck.”

“Why _did_ you turn her down?” cuts in Wonwoo, eyes narrowed at Soonyoung, who squirms under the attention, shooting a helpless look at Jihoon. 

“ _Seriously_?” Jihoon sighs exasperatedly. 

Seokmin tunes them out, beyond lost. If Minji is not his secret admirer, then who’s leaving him the gifts?

*

*

It’s strange how normal things are at the office on Monday after all the craziness from the weekend. Yoongi is once again on a warpath after receiving a stroppy phone call from Hyosang about pushing back the deadline for the seventh time, and Soonyoung and Seokmin are facing the brunt of it, given the task of emailing at least thirty enquiring authors on top of proofing one manuscript each before the end of the working day. Seokmin’s almost tempted to beg Seokjin to come down and placate Yoongi, but apparently, they’d had some silly argument after the barbecue and are not on speaking terms for now. 

“This is ridiculous,” Soonyoung complains. “I have work I need to do for Jihoon as well. When am I going to do that at this rate?”

“If he hears you, we’re going to end up with more work,” hisses Seokmin, watching Yoongi pace back and forth in his office, ranting to Namjoon, who looks like he’s regretting his decision to check in on the editor. 

Soonyoung suddenly ducks underneath the desk, earning an odd look from Seokmin. “What are you doing?”

Soonyoung merely shushes him and gestures behind him. 

Minji is hovering by the water cooler once again, but rather than stealing looks at their desk, today she has her back firmly to them. 

“I just feel so bad,” Soonyoung moans. “I keep seeing her sad eyes in my dreams. What do I do, Seokminnie?”

“She’ll get over it soon enough, hyung,” he tells the other man sympathetically. “At least now she can move on.”

When Minji goes back to her desk, Soonyoung slides back into his chair. 

“What about you?” he asks. 

Seokmin frowns in confusion. “What about me?”

“Now that we know it’s not Minji, we still need to figure out who’s been leaving you gifts,” Soonyoung points out. 

With a drawn-out sigh, Seokmin drops his head to the table, a throbbing headache starting at the back of his eyes. “Hyung, I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. That’s the least of my concerns right now.”

“Mingyu,” Soonyoung says quietly. 

Seokmin sighs loudly again. “I’m really not in the mood to talk about him right now.”

“No, I mean, Mingyu, hello.” Soonyoung nods at something, or rather someone over Seokmin’s shoulder. 

“Perhaps you’re in the mood to talk _to_ me instead?” says Mingyu’s voice coldly. With a sinking heart, Seokmin slowly turns around to see the designer frowning down at him. 

“Oh, hey,” he says weakly, flinching when the frown deepens.

Mingyu ignores him, attention turning to Soonyoung. “Hi hyung,” he starts, a smile warming his face immediately. “I know you’re sharing a mound of work with Seokmin here, but would you mind if I borrow him for a few minutes? We just need to finish a conversation.”

Soonyoung glances at Seokmin, who sends him a beseeching look, then chooses to ignore it completely and grins widely at Mingyu. “Be my guest,” he says graciously. 

Seokmin turns his fiercest glare on the assistant, but Soonyoung merely snorts and waves him off when Mingyu grips him firmly around the arm and practically hauls him out of his seat. It hurts a little, the strength of his grip, fingers digging into soft muscle, and he scowls at Mingyu when he starts dragging him away from his desk unceremoniously. The only reason he doesn’t whack Mingyu across the head is because he hates making a scene. 

“Can’t you be a bit gentle?” he hisses at him instead, trying to get his arm free. 

Mingyu ignores him again, making a beeline for the breakroom. To be honest, Seokmin feels just a bit intimidated at the grim look on the designer’s face instead of the usual smile he has ready for Seokmin, but then remembers he’s still annoyed with the other man. Unreasonably, sure, but still annoyed. 

Jungkook is fiddling with his camera at one of the tables in the breakroom, but when they burst in, he takes one look at them and makes the wise choice to beat a hasty retreat. 

As soon as the photographer is out of the room, Mingyu closes the door firmly behind them. Seokmin watches him, heart thudding furiously, apprehensive when the designer crosses his arms and leans against the door to stare at him evenly. 

“Could you do me a favour and stop being an asshole?”

He _is_ being an asshole, but it’s still infuriating to hear it being pointed out so plainly. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been wracking my brain the whole weekend trying to figure out what I did to offend you.” Mingyu slowly makes his way over to where Seokmin’s leaning against the counter, stopping about a foot away. Seokmin shifts, discomfited by the way he now has to look up at the designer. “And I’ve reached the point where I don’t care anymore. I’ve tried asking you, but you’ve just run off without any explanation every single time.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to defend himself, but Mingyu cuts him off. “What you’re doing right now reminds me of what you did back in school, and I’m not enjoying it.”

_Oh._

Seokmin flinches, receiving the statement like a blow to his gut. He sucks in a sharp breath, feeling a hot wave of shame wash over him. 

“I didn’t mean to–“

Mingyu interrupts him again, the corners of his mouth down-turned and it leaves a heavy feeling in Seokmin’s chest. “You can’t use the same excuse again. You’re old enough to realise what you’re doing could potentially hurt me,” he says, anger colouring his words. “And it does.”

The wounded look in his eyes leaves a bitter taste in Seokmin’s mouth. “I’m sorry.” When Mingyu opens his mouth again, Seokmin rushes to fill in the brief silence. “I’m really sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you at all.” he says carefully. “I just wasn't thinking straight. And you’re right, I’m being selfish again.”

Mingyu shifts, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his pockets. He gives a brief nod at Seokmin, prompting him to finish. 

He takes a deep breath, clutching onto his last nerve. For someone who’s avoided conflict like the plague his whole life, he thinks he’s doing pretty well for not puking on the spot. “I _have_ been avoiding you,” he admits. 

He gets an exasperated huff in response. “And it’s not really because I’m mad at you, no wait,” he says hastily when the designer raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Okay, fine, maybe I have been mad at you a bit, but then I kept avoiding you because I was trying to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself?”

Seokmin bites his lip, throwing the last shred of his dignity to the wind. “Well, I feel silly now, but I thought you _liked_ me, you know, in a non-platonic way.” He cringes when Mingyu’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open. “So, when I found out you already had a date to the barbecue, I was angry and really embarrassed–“

“A date?” Mingyu looks bemused. 

“Well, yeah, Hansol,” Seokmin reminds him glumly. 

Mingyu laughs. “Hansol wasn’t my _date_!” he exclaims, making a face. “He’s a close friend, and Minseo’s boyfriend.”

Seokmin blinks. Minseo, as in Mingyu’s little sister. “What?”

The designer huffs. “I took Hansol to the barbecue because I wanted to introduce him to Namjoon-hyung. He’s been wanting to do an internship with a publishing house.”

“Oh,” Seokmin says, stumped. 

“But wait, was that you _asking me out_?” Mingyu asks, face carefully blank. 

He closes his eyes tightly shut. Well, he had certainly dug this grave himself, might as well lie in it. “Yes, I wanted to go to the barbecue with you, as your date,” he clarifies, dying a little inside. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this embarrassed, not even when he couldn’t pop a boner during his first time. 

Mingyu now looks genuinely surprised. “On a date? With _me_?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

Seokmin gives him a frustrated look. “What do you mean ‘why’? Because I _like_ you, you giant idiot.”

A resounding silence follows his rather abrupt and far from romantic declaration. Mingyu’s blinking rapidly, mouth wide open, as if his brain’s struggling to process the words. It’s not his best look, but Seokmin doesn’t blame him for his shock. After all, he’d been the one to go and misinterpret Mingyu’s easy friendliness for something a lot more intimate. 

He doesn’t realise how tightly he’s gripping the countertop behind him until his fingers start to hurt a little. Loosening his grip, he focuses on his feet, ears burning under the other man’s dumbfounded stare. 

And in the next breath, the designer makes a sharp turn and flees the room. 

As far as confessions could have gone, that was a definite ‘crash and burn’. Heart somewhere by his feet, he sighs loudly and starts shuffling out of the room after a couple of minutes of feeling sorry for himself, the thought of the pile of work waiting for him at his desk making him even more miserable. 

But before he can leave, Mingyu’s rushing back into the room again, nearly crashing into him in his hurry. He watches, puzzled, as Mingyu leans against the doorway to catch his breath for a few seconds. 

Then Mingyu extends his hands, offering him something. “Here, this is for you,” he pants, grabbing Seokmin’s hand and placing something cold in his palm. 

When he looks down, a small tub of _Ben & Jerry’s_ vanilla ice cream is sitting inconspicuously in his hand. He furrows his brows, still lost. 

He looks up at Mingyu in question, and the designer stares back expectantly. 

It takes a few minutes for the puzzle pieces to slot into place, and the small smile on Mingyu’s face blooms into a wide grin as he watches the realisation dawn on Seokmin’s face, mouth going slack. 

“Wait, _you’re_ my secret admirer?” he asks in a hushed whisper, still reeling from the turn of events. He almost feels a bit dizzy. 

“I’ve liked you a _lot_ longer, moron,” Mingyu tells him, eyes playful. 

“Wow.”

Mingyu chuckles, expression fond and happy. And it fills him with a bubbly feeling, heart the lightest it has felt in a long time, lips turning up in a blinding grin. 

Almost in a bit of daze, he reaches past Mingyu until he can find the doorknob, shutting the door firmly behind them and locking it. 

Then he tilts his head up, leaning closer to Mingyu until they’re almost nose to nose. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he tells Mingyu before grabbing fistfuls of his shirt tightly and leaning up to press his lips against Mingyu’s in a firm kiss.

A quiet gasp escapes Mingyu, tensing up slightly (which makes Seokmin freak out momentarily) before he relaxes into the kiss, arms going around Seokmin’s waist, pulling him flush against his tall frame. Seokmin’s eyes drift shut, his whole body trembling at the spark he feels at his lips, which steadily spreads down his skin until he’s buzzing all over. Mingyu’s lips are a bit chapped, but perfect, alternating at sucking and nibbling at his lips in intervals, licking into his mouth eagerly when he moans into the kiss. He marvels at how perfectly they fit against each other, soaks in the piny smell of Mingyu’s aftershave, feels the strength in his biceps, and tightens his arms around Mingyu’s neck. 

This kiss is nothing like the innocent ones they used to exchange as children, but underneath the tones of raw want, it evokes the same feelings of warmth and contentment in him. 

It’s what he’s been searching for all these years.

He loses track of time, completely taken in by the breathy moans that escape Mingyu, happy to stay in his embrace forever.

It’s only when the door handle rattles loudly, followed by an annoyed voice saying “Hey, you can’t lock the breakroom,” that Seokmin pulls away, reluctantly. 

“Give us a minute,” he calls out, voice hoarse. He winces a little, embarrassed, when the person on the other side grumbles at them before leaving. 

Mingyu chuckles, nosing at his jaw, arms still wrapped around him. 

“So,” says Mingyu, when Seokmin meets his eyes, cheeks flushed. “Would you like to go to the aquarium with me this weekend?” 

It makes him giggle. “Only if you promise to keep kissing me like that.”

Mingyu smirks. “I’ve been wanting to do a lot more for a very long time.”

Seokmin smacks him on the chest with a groan and Mingyu chuckles before leaning down to capture his lips in another kiss. 

And in the days to come, when everyone coos over their cute little office romance and how romantic it is to end up with your childhood sweetheart (because of course that was what Mingyu had been to him, if he’s honest with himself), Seokmin will cringe at the many clichés, but when Mingyu laces their fingers together on the way home or presses soft kisses to his temple, he will thank his lucky stars for leading him back to Mingyu.

*

*

**Author's Note:**

> I did quite a bit of research into publishing, but of course, I'm sure there are many inaccuracies. My apologies for that. I hope I didn't offend anyone in publishing.


End file.
